














CANNOT LEAVE THE LIBRARY. 


Chap. -4 

Shel/*. 


COPYRIGHT DEPO 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

9—165 






^Cbe SSefore gesterba? 







XTbe 2)as Before 
l^estecbag 


BY 

SARA ANDREW SHAFER 

a 



Neto gork 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY ^ 

LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. 

1904 


All righU reserved 


r 


THE LIEfv.vPV OF 

coh-l; .. -T 

Tvxo Cfi-'ct r.tii.rtved 

FEE 23 

‘-I C»pyrigf./ fentry 

cuss ^ XXo N«, 

E d a 0 

COPY A. 



Copyright, 1904 , 

By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 


Set up, electrotyped, and published February, 1904. 


1 • 


• • 

• • • 


•• • • ^ « • 

/ • • ^ • « 

•« • 
• • * • • • 

• • **••••« 


• • • 



• • • 





Noriuoot) 

J. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 


®o tf)c Doctor, ans tljc Doctor’s Mifc ; 
to Daff? ; anD to tlie precious memorp 
of Dear Dicb. 


X 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

The Village 


PA6B 

1 

IL 

The New Gown 


. 20 

III. 

Show Day 


. 39 

IV. 

Miss Timlow 


. 62 

V. 

What might have been Expected . 


. 73 

VI. 

Having the Congressman to Tea . 


. 96 

VII. 

An Affliction in the Family 


. 112 

VIII. 

Fetching the Spoons .... 


. 129 

IX. 

A Chapter of Calamities 


. 146 

X. 

“Joys that we’ve tasted” 


. 173 

XI. 

The County Fair .... 


. 193 

XII. 

The Conquest of Apollyon 

• 

. 214 

XIII. 

The Red Astrakhans 


. 230 


Vll 




A-^ 


f 




li 








W 






'VV 


m 




. 1 


/ ' 


• . i 


u 


,<V' 


rifi'dw 


fV^ 


0 .fV>>u f ), ■ 


r 


M0 


J.\ 










1 ’./-Htf. 




k: 




% 




'Mi.'iT,' i* '\f, 


)) 


S I 


^ *<iM 

i^T • • 1 , •» 


> ' t 


I'M 


a. 






’■'i^ 

r <» •< 

V 


Jf 


■» ; y 






r'' 


!i4 




!t^: 


‘(,r 


\ >' 




1 1 


JaV> 


Vi» 1 


i 'i 




- -TV- 


i '• 




» • 


V..' J 


I?,' 


‘I' . 

♦l . ll 






\\- 


Ih- 


i 


» .' » 


A ■■%- 


'A' 




E:# 


. V I 


y 


' kj 


b 




ii- 


!>♦ 


•■,/ n . 


V < .^‘ 


.>>V 


‘V 


ft 






.Jf. 


» 


«.rv »j 




I \ 




<■*/ 




/ A 


V. i > * 


r. » 




- jj- 


-i» 




A f 


I 


' 1 1. 


;i) 




v'il 


A'tj 


r 'v 


.^f 


! ','V'' 




1 


<"/.i'V , 

-W 










^i'. 


/>> 


L -■ ■ ,'■ 


*MAT' i‘ <■ 


MV'5 


' 4 .*' 




\t. 


' J.ll 


• .r« 


> 1 * f I 




I /; ; ■ ' '‘.. ^■** lytf 

- 1 * * .»" i/r'-j 

ViiS 


\ • I' I. 


■m, 








X 




■j.ii 


!•* * . 




V->:i 






r ,.A.;/. 


i I 


\ ' > 




» ’ »• 


• 1 1 




’/A; 


I /' 


t 1 


h i 


f\ *- > 


'y Ji 




'y'-VM. 


.V*'.v. 


Xx 






'ti' 


fas ;,;.I, :• ' 

-'fe'^? ■ ■ ■ 


.;.< .;^n 


Cl 


< 




t-^Av 


lit . *4 1 .,'. ' k , • • . U-, 

■ * A. 


yVl 


i < 


f/ 


iVVi' / 


/ vt V.' 1 / • 


« * 


■ i t '•'■ I A 

' ’ ' i^K 


r. 




-ry^y>r'y®'i'.rAi 

aA i. Ai . ' .f.^ifis 




,1?' 




:Vi'r>V‘i/it'''i. •.I1.4 




njj '.’v,;. r ':',■ .. ' 


.• i 




• t 




XTbe Before J^esterbaig 


CHAPTER I 

l^illage 

Once upon a time there was a Village, which 
lives now only in the memory of a few gray- 
haired men and women, but which was in its 
day the fairest and the dearest spot the sun 
ever shone upon. 

It has not been blotted out by any terrible 
elemental forces ; it has not been left behind in 
the swift onrush of life as it is lived in these 
latter days. Its name — its pretty French name, 
the legacy of the brave Jesuits who passed that 
way, long, long ago — still stands in the old place 
on the map — such a favored place ! Indeed, it 
stands there now in the heavy type by which 
the map-men pay their respects to places in 
which there are many railways, and where there 
is much traffic ; but the Village is lost, none the 
less, and when the old boys and girls go back 


1 


2 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


to it, it is only now and then that their wistful 
eyes can find something they have remembered, 
or some one whom they knew long years ago. 

In the lost years the Village lay in the hollow 
of the palm of the fair prairie, which held it 
right lovingly, knowing how precious it was. 
Green billows of waving corn, yellow shoals 
of bending wheat, gray-green drifts of foamy 
oats, and crimson tides of rippling clover flowed 
in to the very edge of the Addition, on whose 
trim streets the thrifty Germans dwelt apart. 
Great bur-oaks held themselves together, here 
and there, whispering of the old wild days they 
had known before the coming of the Palefaces, 
and so holding in scorn all petty things, by rea- 
son of the nobility of their own great natures, 
that under them grew no noxious weeds, but 
rather waving seas of blue-grass, tipped with 
dandelions, maybe, or with blue violets, or 
buttercups, — 

“ The little children’s dower.” 

Like jewels a string of lakes and ponds cut by 
old glaciers, flashed and sparkled, green girdled 
by the woods. How clear and cool were the 
waters fed by their hidden springs ! How 
white, how golden, the lilies and the lotus that 


THE VILLAGE 


3 


rocked in their leafy coves ! How free and fleet 
the fishes that darted through their pleasant 
depths ! There were islets rising here and 
there, and on these stood the last of a mighty 
race of pine trees, long since fallen before the 
greed of man. Polypody grew there, and club- 
mosses, partridge berries, and pipsissewa, bronzed 
lichens, and mosses like hoar-frost — all unlike 
the growths of the mainland, and all long 
vanished now. 

The Village was built as a village should be, 
with a long vertebral main street, from which, 
riblike, some cross-streets lost themselves in 
the prairies and in the ponds. Wide and cool 
lay the streets, shadowed from end to end by 
rows of sugar-maples, whose branches all but 
roofed them in, and bordered by pleasant cot- 
tages, each having behind its own white fence, 
its own garden. Now the fences are gone, and 
the lawns, trimmed by shrill, whirring machines, 
are all alike in the careful groupings of cannas, 
and scarlet sages, and coleus, and pink gera- 
niums. Then every housewife expressed her- 
self, not her neighbor, in her garden, and there 
was not a bedding-out plant within fifty miles 
of the borders wherein, under her loving care. 


4 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


grew the luxuriant bulbs and shrubs and peren- 
nials which she loved. To walk with one of these 
gentle gardeners through her plantings, was to 
know an epitome of her life. This rose-bush, 
with the loosely petalled blossoms offered to 
June and then withdrawn to wait for another 
Longest Day, was from a slip Great-grandfather 
had carried into the Western wilderness when he 
left the old home, soon after the Revolution, to 
make a new home for the girl he loved, and for 
whose sake he cherished it through all the wid- 
owed years he bore with cheerfulness and cour- 
age, until he went to join Great-grandmother, 
who had been fifty years in heaven. These great 
pink mallows were from seed brought into that 
fearful West before the Eighteenth Century had 
closed its sad drama of exile. The Sweet 
Williams were from Mary, who had been so long 
away.” The little rosy daisies, the tulips, the 
daffodils, the blue flags, the yellow cowslips, the 
pink rockets, the rose campion, the Japan quince 
bush, the Prairie Queen above the porch, the 
honeysuckles, the lilacs, the syringas, the hearts- 
ease, the sweet peas — each had its story. None 
had been bought with money ; each was the gift 
of love, and those were gardens to remember. 


THE VILLAGE 


5 


Of the Main Street the Court-house was 
the heart. Built after some dim suggestion of 
the ideas of Sir Christopher Wren, its pretty 
white bell tower rose above a colonnade of 
white pine pillars which showed between the 
green of many trees. Its bell was used on 
court days, for fires, for political meetings, and 
for news from the front in the terrible days 
of the Civil War, when almost every man 
capable of bearing arms was standing before 
the guns. Midnight or midnoon, if over the 
wires came tidings of victory or of defeat, the 
bell called the Villagers to hear the message. 
What tears fell, as a woman, whose heart was 
broken, turned amid the respectful silence of her 
neighbors who were his friends, to walk back to 
the home which was darkened forever! What 
shouts of joy arose when good news came, and 
how swiftly up to the top of the tall flag-staff went 
the most beautiful flag that floats I Far over the 
Village trees the country folk could see the sign 
of triumph ; and the boy at the plough, or the old 
man at his window, could rejoice that peace was 
one day nearer to the land he loved, however 
dearly peace must cost. 

About the Court-house stood the little shops 


6 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


where the ladies went in the Spring and Fall to 
buy the heavy black silks for state occasions, or 
the warm brown merinos or delicate prints and 
fine cotton stuffs with which their simple tastes 
were pleased in those simple days. The dress- 
maker who made their gowns and the milliner 
who trimmed their velvet or net bonnets, or deco- 
rated the flapping hats which adorned the heads 
of their children, were ladies themselves, and 
quite incapable of smiling at the little economies 
of making over gowns, or of freshening up bon- 
nets with a new rose or a new plume. What 
beautiful French roses those were, and what rich 
plumes ! The ladies of the Village tolerated noth- 
ing but the best, and would have stood aghast 
at the offerings of a modern bargain counter. 
There are no ladies now like those who wore 
those delicate undersleeves and collars of convent 
needlework, and in whose glossy hair were such 
lovely combs of tortoise-shell. 

On the side streets stood the Churches with 
green blinded windows, and with rows of posts 
outside to which country horses were tied during 
the long hours of service. Not to go to Church 
was a thing not to be dreamed of among peo- 
ple of standing, or even of no standing at all. 


THE VILLAGE 


7 


0 pleasant summer Sabbaths, when all the Vil- 
lage bells rang in brotherly chimings regardless 
of doctrinal differences and the Village folk fared 
forth into the shady streets ! O pleasant sound 
of holy hymns, wafted through the open windows ! 
O fervent voices lifted in fervent prayer, and 
in the long expositions of the texts ! O sweet 
stillness of the sunshine, so different in its aspect 
from everyday sunshine that even without the 
bells and the stiffly starched collars and petti- 
coats the youngest child must have known that 
it was Sunday, and O the long, long blossomy 
Sunday afternoons ! 

Schoolhouses ? Certainly there were School- 
houses, but these were melancholy, uninteresting 
places whither one was forced to go for long, 
unprofitable hours, but of which no normal child 
would willingly think directly those hours were 
over. There were so many things to do that 
were really important, it was hardly to be ex- 
pected that any one would cherish any affection 
for those daily prisons ; so in the children’s 
minds they did not stand for a tithe of what 
the smallest workshop, where things were made, 
stood for. 

By a great good fortune the nicest working- 


8 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


men in the whole world chose the Village as the 
scene of their beneficent lives — a really very supe- 
rior race of workingmen, whom all children loved. 
There were, first of all, the Blacksmiths whose shop 
was just across the street from Oak House, where 
the Doctor lived. Glowing iron was beaten 
there into whatever form the strong-armed smith 
willed — cling, clang, the hammer fell rhythmi- 
cally on the anvil, while arms, strong and black, 
worked at the bellows in the murky depths of 
the smithy in which fires glowed with a glow 
unknown to other fires. There was nothing par- 
ticular to be gotten from the Blacksmith’s, 
although sometimes the boys secured an old 
horse-shoe, or a few thickish nails which they 
did not know exactly what to do with. In gen- 
eral, the Village children had the primal acquisi- 
tiveness of their race, and frankly liked people 
or went to places with an honest eye for what 
they hoped to receive ; but from the forge they 
asked only the smoking fire, the clangor of ham- 
mer and anvil, and the pleasant consciousness of 
the strength of Smiths themselves who ranked 
high in their regard. 

There was the foundry, which had a shrill 
whistle by which the w^orkman’s hours were 


THE VILLAGE 


9 


measured. Children might not cross the foun- 
dry threshold, however agreeable they might 
have found it to look at the great shafts and 
boilers that were making, or to watch the whirl 
of belts and wheels. Now and then some grimy 
Foundry man was thoughtful enough to bring out 
a gift of long coils of steel shavings, — fascinating, 
desirable above all things, — but not really very 
useful after all ; or, better by far, he would give 
the boys a lump of moulding clay. Marbles 
could be rolled of this, and baked in the kitchen 
stove, if the cook were willing; and although 
these never came to anything, and the boys had 
plenty of marbles without them, few things do 
fulfil the expectations formed for them. In this 
life it is the game which is the great thing, not 
the winning. The Foundrymen were, therefore, 
persons to be held in great esteem, and there 
could be no greater pleasure than to watch the 
flare of the furnace flames as they were unfurled 
in fiery banners above the tall chimneys, or the 
swarms of sparks — the fire-flies of Winter — 
whirl out of the black funnels, and die out in 
the cold night air. 

A very delightful set of Carpenters also in- 
habited the Village. Under their benches were 


10 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


shavings, so fine and soft that it was a pity one 
had hair at all, such fine wigs could have been 
made of them. Among the shavings the Car- 
penters were wont to throw bits of wood, 
squares, triangles, oblongs, sometimes even bits 
that had been turned on a lathe, and were curled 
or beaded ; and all these treasures the kindly 
craftsmen made free to the children, who might 
fill hats and aprons and pockets to-day, and 
come back to-morrow for fresh stores if they 
liked. Hammers and saws, augurs and chisels 
and gimlets, and all sorts of interesting shiny 
things hung against the shop wall. One was even 
allowed sometimes to hold the spirit-level, and 
watch the bubble of imprisoned air come and 
go. That was not often, for one was taught at 
home not to ask questions, or to be troublesome ; 
but how could one help loving the Carpenters 
who knew how to use the curious tools, and who 
were so kind ? The children had heard often 
and often of a Boy who, long, long ago, had 
worked in the carpenter shop of Joseph, and 
sometimes they almost expected, in the dim half- 
knowledge through which children grope, that 
He might come in, and that they might see Him 
take the plane, and curl the wood into white 


THE VILLAGE 


11 


shavings as He made a yoke which should be 
easy for the oxen to wear. 

It has been said that picket-fences stood along 
the Village streets, but it has not been told 
why they were there to guard the pretty front- 
yards. It was because of the cows. Everybody 
had a cow, and after the morning milking — a 
function usually performed at the side gate 
where the border of grass was cropped close 
by the waiting creatures — they were turned 
forth, and were free to wander whither their 
own wills led them, until nightfall brought 
them back to the milking-pails once more. It 
was pleasant for the cows, so pleasant that the 
boys had often to lay aside very important 
things in order to hunt and to harry home 
delinquent beasts ; but it was not so pleasant 
for the Villagers, who, although taking their own 
share in the privilege, only permitted the custom 
because of the German Vote, — an unseen thing, 
greatly desired and greatly feared, and which de- 
pended largely upon the German cows. The cows 
themselves seemed quite conscious of their politi- 
cal importance, and thought nothing of staring 
the stateliest ladies in the face, or of being quite 
grumpy if the Minister or the Judge poked them 


12 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


in the sides with canes. To the children the 
cows were of all creatures the most fearsome, 
and in the adventures of their quiet lives figured 
much as lions might in those of small Numidians. 
Dark stories were told of certain animals sup- 
posed to be of a peculiarly vicious and hooky 
nature. The boys told these tales, and so fright- 
ened the little girls that to them all cows were 
hooky, and the Old Orchard as terrible as the 
Inferno. 

Now it was in the Old Orchard that the cows 
did mostly congregate, — and no wonder. The 
Old Orchard was an unfenced tract, whereon grew 
some rows of ancient cherry and apple trees. 
In the Springtime these were veritable Bowres 
of Blisse, for as soon as the April sunshine gave 
them leave, the cherry trees hid themselves in 
garments of bloom so white, so sweet, that it 
was not strange that every bee for miles around 
came singing to the feast they offered, and mur- 
mured in the snowy flower-cups a song so won- 
derful that only the smallest children had hearts 
pure enough to understand it. And they never 
told it, and if they had no Grown-up could have 
known what it meant. 

After the cherries had shaken down their 


THE VILLAGE 


13 


bloom in showers of perfumed snow, the apple 
trees took up the joyful task of making the old 
orchard into a fairy-land. For the most of the 
year they relied upon gray lichens or green leaves 
to deck themselves withal ; but when May came 
laughing over the prairie, they had their week 
of enchanted youth once more. They were 
white, they were gray, they were pink, they 
were silver-green in a wonderful varying scale 
of color which no other apple trees ever knew. 
Nobody expected any fruit from them ; the little 
they did bear was too hard and knotty for even 
the hardiest, hungriest boy, so the boughs could 
be rifled of their bloom at will, and there might 
not have been a pink petal left to fall on the 
close-cropped sward below but for the cows, 
who lay in the pleasant shade, and by their 
mere presence kept the children at bay. 

Sometimes there were sheep, but not often, 
and when there were sheep it was Summer. 
Where they came from, whither they went, who 
knew ? There would be a cry, “ Sheep ! sheep ! ” 
and the picket-fences would straightway be alive 
with perching children. There would be a thick 
cloud of dust in the distance, then a sound of 
bleating in many tones of complaint, from the 


14 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


loud one of the old horned patriarch who led the 
flock, to the sorrowful, soft ba-a-ing of the weak- 
legged lambs. Then there would be the sound 
of many feet ; then the full view of a closely 
packed drove of many hot, woolly bodies ; the 
slow calls of the men who guided the flock ; 
the sharp barkings of the anxious sheep-dog ; the 
warm scent of the tired animals, a diminishing 
scale of soft minor sounds ; the gradual disap- 
pearance of the dust cloud, a thick-quilted pat- 
tern wrought by a multitude of little feet in 
the deep midsummer’s dust, and then the chil- 
dren would vanish also, and the deep peace of 
the day fall once more upon the place. 

One’s own relations and particular friends 
were, of course, of the first importance in one’s 
view of the inhabitants of the Village ; but besides 
these there were no end of interesting people 
who lived in odd corners. Perhaps had the 
children known these persons, they would not 
have been so wonderful as they were when they 
only looked at them, and thought about them, 
and spoke of them to one another. There was 
the old gentleman who was called the Major. 
He was tall and spare, his hair and whiskers 
were very white, and the skin on his delicate old 


THE VILLAGE 


15 


face was very pink. Was it always, or only 
sometimes, that he wore an Indian suit of white 
buckskin ? It seemed to be always, but maybe 
it was only sometimes, just as it seemed as if it 
were always that pink damask roses bloomed 
under his old wife’s window. Anyhow, there 
were leathern fringes around his blouse and 
down the legs of his trousers, and on the blouse 
there was a belt and many pockets. He wore 
a wide felt hat and looked very fierce and war- 
like, although the only occupation of his life 
seemed to be going once a day to the Post- 
office to get his paper. 

A little old Englishwoman was also a very de- 
lightful person. Where did she live ? The chil- 
dren never knew. Out of the sunshine she 
came, and into it she went — that was all. Ages 
before the era of short skirts, her skirts were so 
short that they showed her neat prunella shoes 
and a glimpse of spotless hose. A shawl of the 
same black stuff as her gown was pinned over 
her shoulders in such a way as to display the 
fine lawn kerchief crossed on her bosom. On 
her head was a close little black poke bonnet with 
a little white frill inside, and a stiff little cape 
behind. She walked with the daintiest steps. 


16 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


and when she saw one’s mother she dropped 
a courtesy. No one in all the Village did this 
homage but this tiny, dainty English body, and 
that one bit of Old World manners would have 
given her distinction even without the basket, 
which gave her more. A strong, light basket 
with a cover and a handle. From under the 
cover the edges and corners of a snowy-white 
napkin could be seen. What was in the basket ? 
The children never knew, but it was a subject 
for endless speculation, and it was generally 
conceded that something to eat, of a more than 
earthly flavor, was hidden by that lid. 

The little German-French woman, whom they 
all called “ Grossmutter,” was no stranger to 
any child, but was the friend of all. In her 
garden, beside the flowers and vegetables they 
knew, were good-smelling herbs of many strange 
kinds. She always carried a bit folded in with 
her best handkerchief inside her hymn book when 
she went to Church, and she let the little visitors 
help themselves to the fragrant sprigs whenever 
they would. A willow grew beside her well, 
the best willow for whistle-making that ever 
grew anywhere, and she let the boys climb and 
cut among its branches as much as they liked 


THE VILLAGE 


17 


while she sat below with her little spinning- 
wheel, and whirled and drew the thread in the 
sunshine. Her large dark eyes and brown skin, 
her nervous motions and her quick sympathies, 
were “ made in France,” but her speech was of 
Germany. She had some charming stories of 
her native Alsace, and could even remember the 
great Napoleon and his army when they marched 
through the province in 1814. Her mother hid 
her and her pretty elder sister in the flax that 
was drying in a smoky loft above the cottage 
kitchen, and Grossmutter could remember tak- 
ing her turn in peeping through a knot-hole in 
the floor, and seeing her mother bending over the 
fire as she cooked for the hungry soldiers who 
came and went during all the long hours of her 
imprisonment. 

Sometimes the streets were enlivened by 
pageants that lived long in memories which 
had not much to remember. A Circus might 
come to town, or the Firemen might have a 
parade, or, best of all, there v^ere the political 
processions that always came in October. Of 
course those of the political party to which one 
was affiliated was of the more vital interest, and 
the small politicians were deeply versed in the 


18 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


proper number of bands, the representations 
from various country neighborhoods and elec- 
tion precincts, and the general amount of en- 
thusiasm proper on such occasions. To have 
one more band playing the national airs ; a 
dozen more horseback-riders, or even an extra 
illustrative “ float ” than could be shown by the 
opposing faction, was essential to the honor of 
the candidates one was supporting with frantic 
wavings of the flag, and jeering flings at boys 
of the “other side” who stood on corners with 
tongues derisively extended, or sneering smiles 
and pointing, scornful Angers. On election days, 
which seemed shortl}^ to follow in the wake of 
a Parade, — when little girls were compelled to 
walk to school by way of back streets, in order 
to avoid the highly interesting fights sure to occur 
about the polls, — it was almost a law that each 
child have a printed ballot pinned to its jacket or 
pinafore, and many and scathing were the taunts 
flung next day at the adherents of the cause that 
was lost. 

The Village itself is lost now, and almost all of 
the men and women — yes — and the children, 
too, who lived there in the sweet old days, have 
fared for the last time over the long roadway 


THE VILLAGE 


19 


that leads to the still God’s-acre, and have crept 
under the green coverlet into the silence w^here 
they have found all they ever longed for. Before 
it is too late, one of them would fain hand on to 
another generation some of the brightness of long- 
lost years, and so, without further preface begins 
the story of a little group of children who lived 
in the Village of the Day before Yesterday. 


CHAPTER II 


®l)e #etD ^otDit 

To Rachel the Village was the whole of the 
great, round world. There were, she knew, 
other places to which people sometimes went, 
and from which they sometimes came, but they 
were vague and unimportant. Father went to 
them sometimes, and Mother had been, but not 
often, and not since Rachel could remember. 
Perhaps it was because they had no time for 
travel ; perhaps it was because they liked staying 
in the Village best : this was the more probable 
reason, since it was, undoubtedly, place enough 
for any sensible person. Still there was Vir- 
ginia, where Grandmother had been a little girl, 
and of which her stories were so many and so 
fascinating, and there was Ohio, which had been 
the family stepping-stone for a generation, in its 
following of the sun. These, first and best. 
Then there were France and Holland, where 
other and older grandparents had been born ; 


20 


THE NEW GOWN 


21 


and Ireland and Scotland, which had been home 
to others ; and there was Boston, where an ever- 
so-many-years-ago great-grandfather had been 
whipped at the cart’s tail for being a Quaker. 
Rachel was very glad the family had left off being 
Quakers. She liked dear Mother’s white horse- 
hair bonnet trimmed with lace, and with cherries 
of a most wonderful cherryness, far better than 
the plain head-gear old Mrs. Dale wore, and she 
would have cried her eyes out to see dear Father 
whipped at the cart’s tail ; so the family religion 
suited her, as did, in all things, that place in life 
to which it had pleased God to call her. The 
other places were, moreover, probably not very 
far off, — Bagdad, the Sand-hills of Jutland, 
the Alhambra, the Island of Cyprus, and all 
the adventurous, glittering, perfumed blossomy 
fairy-land in which her thoughts spent most of 
their time. The people who walked about the 
quiet Village streets were hardly more real to her 
than the knights and ladies, the trolls and 
witches, the giants and fairies, of her imagina- 
tion, and were, indeed, by that same imagina- 
tion invested with attributes and characters, and 
bidden to perform deeds by her wild fancies of 
which they were wholly unaware. Many staid 


22 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


and respectable men figured before her as mon- 
sters of a most monstrous wickedness, and were 
attainted by her of crimes of magnitude; and 
many poor but pretty girls were decked out, in 
her eyes, in jewels of price and robes of regal 
magnificence ; while to wear ugly clothes and 
have unlovely manners were quite enough to 
relegate anybody at all to the realm of witch- 
craft. 

It was, therefore, with feelings of horror that 
Rachel heard her doom. 

“My dear,” said the Doctor’s Wife, “I have 
taken my changeable silk dress to the Misses 
Tucker to be made over for you. They will be 
ready to try it on you at ten o’clock this morn- 
ing, and you must start by half-past nine. Mind 
you do not play along the street, and behave 
prettily and quietly while you are there.” 

The Misses Tucker ! Didn’t dear Mother know 
that they were the worst of all the witches ? 
Even Sophy Jane was afraid of them, and Sophy 
Jane was almost twelve. 

“ Oh, Mother, won’t you go with me ? ” 

“ No, my dear ; I cannot spare the time.” 

“ Mayn’t Dick and Daffy go ? ” 

Dick interposed : — 


THE NEW GOWN 


23 


« To the Miss Tucker-Girls ? Not much ! ” 

“ Daffy may go if you will not make the little 
thing run, or let her fall down. Now, Rachel, 
stop frowning. You are to go, and you are to 
go properly. I do not wish to hear anything 
more about it.” 

At half-past nine Rachel’s hat was firmly 
adjusted to her head, and the elastic cord that 
held it on was snapped into place by the relent- 
less Tutu. Tutu was the nurse. Daffy’s pretty 
curls were twitched into place by the same 
tiring-maid but with gentler hands. The gum 
string that held on her hat was too tight, and 
marked her round throat with a deep crease. 
The ringlets were adjusted in a way that tickled 
her ears in a manner very distasteful to the little 
girl. She never thought of protesting. Tutu 
always did things so ; probably there was no 
other way. Daffy was not speculative ; she 
was only patient. 

Tutu opened the front door. Just inside the 
gate stood the Cousins. Molly held a note in 
her hand. 

« We’ve come to stay until twelve o’clock,” 
they announced. “Mother sent this letter to 
Aunt Kitty, and everybody is invited to the Old 


24 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


House to spend the day to-morrow. There’s 
going to be a Show in the Old Orchard.” 

The Cousins lived in the Old House with 
Grandfather and Grandmother and the Aunts. 
The other grandparents, those who lived at 
Linwood, were called Grandpa and Grandma, 
and though the Doctor’s children loved all of 
the dear old people most tenderly, it was to 
Grandmother and Grandpa that their hearts 
turned for the kindliest sympathy and the 
readiest aid in time of trouble. So to go to 
Grandpa’s at Linwood, or to Grandmother’s at 
the Old House, was an event of most joyful 
importance. 

“ Oh, Tutu,” gasped Rachel, “ do you sup- 
pose the Miss Tucker-Girls will have my new 
dress done by then ? ” 

“ Indeed they won’t, and if they did, do you 
think I’d let you go gallivanting about all day 
wuth it on your back ? It’ll be your Sunday-go- 
to-meeting for one long day, and Daffy’s after 
you’ve outgrown it if there’s anything left of 
it but rags, which there mostly isn’t of your 
things,” said the severe Canadian, who would 
have died cheerfully for any one of her charges 
(especially Dick, and especially Daffy), but who 


THE NEW GOWN 


25 


felt it to be part of her duty toward them to 
keep their feet set sternly in the narrow way. 
“ Run along now, all of you. I am going to 
make pies this morning, and you shall each have 
a little turnover when you come back, if you’re 
good.” 

That sounded encouraging, and four were 
better than two if an assault on the witches’ 
den were inevitable ; so they set off rather 
cheerfully, after all. 

It was a long way to the little cottage. It 
had but one story, but it had two front doors : 
one for use, and one before which was no door- 
step, no path, and no gate, and which was 
never opened — a most mysterious door. A row 
of small-paned windows stretched between these 
doors, and over these grew mouldy lilac bushes 
shutting out the northern light from the clean 
little rooms within. Even now, when the year 
was at high lilac-tide, only a few pale clusters 
bloomed on the ancient bushes, and the fra- 
grance of these was shut out from the house by 
the firmly closed sashes. How could people 
shut out the scent of the lilacs? 

Within, on three rush-bottomed chairs, slept 
three yellow cats, and on three “rockers” sat 


26 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


the three old ladies who made the dresses of the 
Village children. Their mothers took their own 
gowns to more modern mantua-makers ; but it 
was a point of honor to give the children’s best 
things to the Misses Tucker, who had lived in 
the cottage and “ made over ” for fifty years at 
least. Probably they had been called “ The 
Tucker girls ” once in their far-away youth, and 
although they had merited the more respectful 
title of the Misses Tucker since before one’s 
mother was born, the “ Girls ” was added so 
often as an additional distinction that they 
were seldom spoken of without that suffix. 
They were, indeed, most highly thought of. 

To their needle craft the ladies added the dis- 
pensing of things that were good for all sorts of 
illnesses and accidents, and among the poorer 
sort had a large clientele^ upon whom they exer- 
cised their benevolence and their skill. Even 
now, although the late May air was so warm 
that the children wore only thin cotton gowns, 
a wood fire burned smartly in the stove 
on which, in little pots and pans, herbs and 
fats were stewing and simmering themselves 
into tiscmes and ointments of most potent 
odors. 


THE NEW GOWN 


27 


Rachel might be sent to the Misses Tucker to 
have a gown made, but the Doctor was often 
provoked beyond endurance by the very irregu- 
lar practice of these amateur healers. It was, 
indeed, hard for him to be called in too late 
to help a man with pneumonia, who had relied 
too long upon their boneset tea and their hore- 
hound syrup. It was discouraging after spend- 
ing weeks in getting an old woman out after a 
severe attack of inflammatory rheumatism, giv- 
ing both attendance and medicine freely and 
without thought of fee, to have the cure her- 
alded about as being due to a brass ring worn 
upon the left thumb, and a buckeye suspended 
about the neck by a red cord, in pursuance of 
the advice of the Miss Tucker-Girls ; and when 
poor little Tim McGuire died of a tuberculous 
swelling, with no other aid than that afforded 
by hanging a canary bird in every window in 
the house, under their direction, the wrath of 
the Doctor was open and great. But why rail 
at fate ? In all ages and lands have there not 
been wise women to whom the common people 
flocked gladly ? Why should not the weird 
sisters of the Village have their following? 

The children came slowly out of the sunshine 


28 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


into the warm gloom of the chamber, where on 
the white bed lay the little frock ready for its 
fitting. 

Now even in the richest families of the Village 
no one ever thought of buying a silk gown for 
a little girl. When a demoiselle hien elevSe was 
of an age to appear in such raiment, the ward- 
robes of mothers and aunts were examined, and 
a laid-aside garment of suitable color and texture 
was chosen, to be made over for the small candi- 
date for silken honors. If she were an elder 
daughter, she wore it gravely and in the fear 
of the elders, by whose decree it was to descend 
to the cadette of the household. Only sisterless 
children made free with these robes of state. 
It was an honor to have such a dress, but it 
was a responsibility. Rachel did not like re- 
sponsibility, so she went in slowly, and sur- 
rendered herself reluctantly to Miss ’Lizabeth’s 
strong, bony fingers. 

Miss ’Lizabeth disrobed the little maiden with 
much such a show of tenderness as a ’longshore- 
man might show to a bag of potatoes, and she 
dragged the shining silk over the close-cropped 
head much as he would haul a piece of tar- 
pauling over a barrel of oysters. Miss ’Liza, 


THE NEW GOWN 


29 


who did the buttonholes, had gentler touches ; 
but Miss ’Liza had no idea of style. 

“ Stand still, Rachel ! ” she warned. 

Out came the big shears from Miss ’Lizabeth’s 
basket ; out came a thick needle with a long tail 
of white cotton from the bosom of Miss ’Liza- 
beth’s gown; out came a handful of pins from 
the pinball hanging by Miss ’Lizabeth’s side, 
and into Miss ’Lizabeth’s mouth went every pin. 

Snip ! Stitch ! Pull ! Pin ! Snip again ! It 
was awful. 

“ Can’t you stand any straighter, Rachel ? 
You can’t? Do tell! I declare, you’re getting 
to be that slab-sided I never saw your equal. 
Do you ever have pains in your back, or your 
hip? Are you sure you don’t? I do hope to 
mercy all this lop-shoulderedness don’t mean hip- 
joint. It don’t run in your family ; but you 
never can tell. There you go down again ! 
Look, Sis’ ’Lina ! look. Sis’ ’Liza ! Ain’t she 
crookeder ’n when we made her blue merino 
before Christmas ? ” 

“ She certainly is,” declared Miss ’Lina after 
a long inspection both through and over her 
spectacles. “ I wonder her pa don’t doctor her 
for it, though he’s a master-hand for doing noth- 


80 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


ing, I will say that. If it’s hip-joint, girls, I 
don’t think we ought to let his prejudices stand 
in our way. ‘ Y e can’t serve God and mam- 
mon,’ and I should never forgive myself, nor 
you either, sisters, if that poor little child went 
hop-and-fetch-it — a limpy, little lame dog all 
her life, just because we’d failed to do our 
duty. ’Liza, you get the steam-bath ready, and 
I’ll hunt up some of that liniment that did old 
Jerry Bangs so much good when he had shingles, 
while ’Lizabeth’s fitting the sleeves.” 

‘‘ Do stand still, Rachel ! There ! I’ve cut a 
jag right in front where it’ll show, and all 
because you wiggle so.” 

“Perhaps poor Rachel has St. Vitus,” said 
Miss ’Liza. “It wouldn’t be anyways un- 
likely. The Doctor’s got an awful temper. A 
man like that is very apt to have a child with 
fits and things. I will get the steam-bath ready. 
Sis’ ’Lina, of course, and I don’t say no to the 
jimson salve, though it does smell awful ; but 
I do insist on quieting her nerves with a good 
dose of valerian before ’Lizabeth spoils the dress 
completely.” 

At the mention of the good dose, the juniors 
prudently withdrew. The treat might include 


THE NEW GOWN 


31 


them ; they did not know. Rachel was left de- 
fenceless. Her brow darkened. She could ven- 
ture on no open act of resistance with those 
great, sharp shears so close to her shuddering 
neck, and with all those pins bristling at her 
from Miss ’Lizabeth’s mouth. One great-grand- 
father had been whipped at the cart’s tail, it was 
true; but two others were at Valley Forge. She 
felt their blood in her veins. 

Through the pins Miss ’Lizabeth expressed her 
views. Her accents were muffled, but her con- 
victions were plain. 

“ It may be hip-joint, and it may be St. Vitus. 
I don’t say no ; but I do say there’s a good deal 
of spared rod and spoiled child right here and 
now. The Doctor and his wife mean well. I 
give them credit for that ; but if ever I have a 
child and it stands first on one foot and then 
on the other, humping up and humping down, 
and looking blacker ’n thunder like this one. 
I’ll just acknowledge that the Lord’s forsaken 
me, and it’s time to begin a hand-to-hand tussle 
with the Old Boy. There, Rachel, praised be 
Peter, I’m through with you, though how the 
dress will look, fitted on a squirming eel, all 
bones and no flesh like you, I don’t pretend to 


32 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


guess. Pinked-out ruffles and green velvet rib- 
bon don’t make up in my eyes for a proper- 
setting waist. Now take off your petticoat, 
and Miss ’Liza will put you in the steam-bath 
after you’ve had your valerian, and Miss ’Lina’ll 
rub on the jimson salve. If they don’t help 
you, they won’t hurt you, and the Tuckers will 
have done their duty.” 

Rachel made one grab for her old gown, lying 
over a chair-back. She made another for her 
hat, and she made one dart, past the cats, past 
the steam-bath and the stove, past the astonished 
old ladies, and out of the one available front 
door. In her red petticoat and white underbody 
she stood at the gate, free and defiant. 

“ Come back, Rachel ! Oh, come back,” 
screamed the scandalized ladies. 

“ Oh, Rachel, ain’t you ’shamed ? ” piped the 
three little girls from under the apple tree of 
their retreat. 

“ No ; I ain’t ashamed. No ; I won’t come 
back,” she declared. “ I haven’t got a hip-joint, 
and I ain’t a St. Vitus, and Father hasn’t got an 
awful temper, and I won’t go in the bath, or be 
rubbed with salve, or take any nasty old dose 
whatever. I mean never to have an}^ more new 


THE NEW GOWN 


33 


clothes as long as I live. Mother doesn’t want 
me ever to be unrespectable, and I don’t want 
to be either ; but you are very wicked old women. 
All three of you.” 

Without further ceremony she backed out on 
the sidewalk, where she put on her gingham 
gown, and walked off haughtily down the street. 
Her air was the air of a conqueror, although the 
buttons on the back of the little waist flapped 
about in total disregard of the empty button- 
holes. The terrified, admiring juniors followed 
silently, not daring to offer to button her up. 
There were times when Rachel’s toilet was not 
to be criticised. 

They walked along. It was warm and sunny. 
Almost everybody had lilac bushes in their front 
yards, and the air was sweet with their perfume. 
As they turned a corner, Molly produced from 
her pocket four little currant cakes, deliciously 
frosted. Grandmother had given them. Grand- 
mother never forgot how hungry children get 
between meals. 

They sat down on some carriage steps and 
nibbled the cakes. It was a point of breeding 
to eat off the bottoms first, to pick out all the 
currants for a second course, and to save the 


34 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


frosting for dessert. Boys, of course, ate theirs 
in gulps ; but this was the accepted procedure 
for girls. 

Rachel bit savagely into her cake, forgetting 
the rules, and eating five currants in the first 
bite. Then she remembered her manners. The 
cake had a very good and softening effect, and 
by the time she had carefully licked the last 
grain of sugar from her fingers, she was at peace 
with all mankind. 

“My dress is going to be lovely,” she an- 
nounced. “ I always admired that silk, — little 
green threads one way, little pink threads the 
other, — so you can’t really say whether it’s 
pink or green. Like some little leaves. It doesn’t 
rattle much ; but when I wear it to Church, if I 
scrape up close to the pews. I’ll bet it’ll swish 
some. I’m going to keep it real nice, so when 
you’re grown up. Daffy, you can have a silk 
dress, too. Molly’s going to have one when she’s 
ten. Hers is going to be lovely, too, made out 
of Auntie’s blue-and-salmon. I’ll tell you what 
let’s do. Let’s be real fashionable and talk 
about clothes. I will tell about my wedding 
dress.” 

“Let me begin,” pleaded Molly. “You al- 


THE NEW GOWN 


85 


ways do, and by the time you’re left off, there’s 
nothing left for us to choose.” 

“ I’m the oldest,” Rachel began the time- 
honored phrase, but suddenly relented. “Betty, 
you go first, you’re the youngest.” 

“My dress — my dress,” said Betty, thought- 
fully. She had not expected to be called on so 
soon, and she was hardly prepared. “ My dress 
is going to be lovely, too. I’m going to be mar- 
ried in a black silk dress that can stand alone, 
trimmed with black crape. It’s going to be 
looped up with pink roses, and I shall have a 
lace parasol and a silver card -case, and a long 
white veil. That’s all,” she concluded suddenly. 

“ When I’m married,” began little Daffy, look- 
ing down, “ I shall have a red dress, and a red 
hat with red feathers, and little red gloves and 
shoes, and a set of furs like Mother’s. I shall 
ride to church on my new red sled, and Major 
shall pull it, and he shall have a red ribbon on 
his collar, and everything shall be pretty and 
red.” 

Molly considered more seriously. 

“ I like white brides best, so I shall be a white 
bride. Satin for my gown, with the longest kind 
of a train, and perfectly enormous hoops. It’s 


36 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


going to have roses all over it, and when I step 
out of the carriage, I shall step so, so the people 
can see my white slippers. I’m going to carry 
a white Prayer-Book, and — ” 

“ Oh my, Molly, your Mother’d never let 
you! ’Piscobals do that. You’d better leave 
that out, ’cause Grandfather’d be vexed at you 
if you ever even pretended to be anything but 
a Presbyterian. Daffy and I could be more 
librul, because our other Grandpa isn’t a Pres- 
byterian at all. He goes to that nice little 
church where they chant, and where you can 
walk about, if you’re little, and sit with your 
different relations. We nearly always go there, 
so if we’d said we’d carry a Prayer-Book, we 
could, or even a rosary like Mary Baily does 
when she goes to Mass, because I’ve heard them 
say what a librul church that one is. I shall 
carry a rosary, now I think of it, of large pearls 
and diamonds, and all the kinds of precious 
stones that grew in Aladdin’s cave. It will just 
suit my dress, and when I drop it in my agerta- 
tion, and my lordly bridegroom restores it to 
me with a low bow, I mean to make out it’s 
of no consequence, so everybody will see how 
rich and librul I am. I shall have a train of 


THE NEW GOWN 


37 


white velvet embroidered with gold butterflies 
as big as hens, and gilt lace on my sleeves, and 
a veil and a bridal crown. I shall walk 50,” 
she illustrated, swinging her brief skirts with 
great elegance, over a path of roses and lilies 
and hollyhocks. All the fountains will run 
with wine, and money will be scattered in the 
streets — ” 

“ There aren’t any fountains,” interrupted 
Daffy, the downright. “ And you know very 
well, Rachel, that Father isn’t going to throw 
money in the streets.” 

“ I shall ride in a golden coach,” went on 
Rachel, expansively. “ And I — why ! what’s 
the matter ? What are you all crying about ? ” 
“Oh, Rachel, your things are so much flner 
than ours ! no one will look at us ! ” 

“ Hush instantly, crying in the street as if 
you all had colic ! ” 

“Yes, but — Rachel — ” 

“ Oh, look ! There goes a red-painted wagon 
that just must belong to the Show. Don’t you 
see the man in uniform throwing off bills ? 
Don’t you hear the horn toot ? Take Betty’s 
hand, Molly, — take mine. Daffy, and hold fast! 
Run as hard as ever your legs’ll let you. Ain’t 


38 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


it lucky I had to go to the Miss Tucker-Girls to 
have my dress fitted? Tutu’d never have let 
us out on the street ; but now we are out, it 
seems as if it was our duty to get some of these 
lovely pink bills. Run ! ” 


CHAPTER III 


2r>a^ 

Boys have many advantages above those 
vouchsafed to girls — so many, indeed, that it 
is hardly v^orth while to begin counting them. 
Never, however, are they so many or so great 
as on Show Days. Perhaps things have changed 
since then ; but when Rachel was ten, nothing 
could be imagined so delightful as being a boy 
when a Circus was holding in the Old Orchard. 

The excitement began at least a fortnight 
before the great day. A red wagon appeared in 
the streets. Whence ? Out of the skies, prob- 
ably, for surely not of this earth was that red 
paint, that brilliant gilding, those masterpieces 
of art, the groups of animals and birds depicted 
on its sides. Not of earth those strong piebald 
horses decked off with pompons and with bells. 

The wagon was driven about the village, stop- 
ping at the most curious places : at the ends of 
factories and of stables; at the sides of old 


89 


40 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


warehouses ; and at long stretches of tight 
board-fences. These blossomed as the rose be- 
fore the wagon moved on, with huge posters 
presenting a foretaste of the glories that should 
be, — prancing steeds, beautiful flying acrobats, 
and snarling lions and tigers grouped about a 
trainer to whose peril that of Daniel was as 
nothing. A thousand delights were spread out 
on the posters. The date of the Show was 
printed in large type, and the name of the 
Village received immortal honor from being 
associated with an event of such magnitude. 

Children stood in rows before the posters. 
They made pilgrimages to all the shrines that 
they might miss nothing of the pictured splen- 
dors. The date was firmly fixed in their minds, 
and they asked one another with burning 
anxiety : — 

« Are you going to the Show ? ” 

Rachel hated being asked. She was almost sure 
that she would not be allowed to go ; but she hated 
to say «no’’ outright. It seemed not only to 
lower her social standing, but to give a final 
blow to her feeble hopes. So she temporized : — 
« I have not heard Mother say.” 

Mother had some very strict ideas. When 


SHOW DAY 


41 


she said anything, she would be very apt to say 
“ no ” without any temporizing. 

The Teachers were, it was true, of the common 
order of teachers, dull, heartless, and unsympa- 
thetic ; but sometimes they were almost more 
than human in their understanding. They pre- 
tended not to see the chicken feathers tied 
together wdth strips of red flannel sticking out 
of the boys’ pockets, or to know that two bands 
of hostile Indians were camped in the school 
playground. The chicken feathers were to be 
tied on the boys’ heads when they went out on 
the war-path, and it was then that they would 
rub their faces with the different colored chalks 
that were in their other pockets. They really 
did not know that the boys had knives bor- 
rowed from the kitchen dresser buttoned up 
inside their jackets; if they had, they would 
have taken them away. This would have been 
a pain to the boys. 

On the day before Show Day the Teachers 
announced that there would be no school on the 
morrow. Everybody now studied as hard as 
ever he could, and recited as well as possible. 
Nobody munched apples behind his geography ; 
nobody made faces in the safe shelter of her 


42 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


slate ; nobody whispered. When school was 
over, everybody went out quietly, and each one 
bowed politely at the schoolroom door. They 
had been taught to turn at the door, and to bow 
to the Teacher, and to the remaining pupils. On 
other days they merely jerked their heads ; on 
this day their bows were really courtly. 

The children all went to bed directly supper 
was over. They had no lessons to learn, and 
they were ready to shorten the night as much as 
might be by sleep. Tutu took them to their 
rooms and heard them say ‘‘ Our Father,” and 
“ Now I lay me,” and ‘‘ God bless everybody 
and make us good children,” and then they had 
climbed into their soft, comfortable beds. Tutu 
sat beside Daffy’s crib next to the open door of 
Dick’s room, and began to read the Chapter. It 
was Tutu’s hour of rest, and oftener than not 
the Chapter was prolonged into a whole history. 
She was not one of the women who are capable 
of stopping off and leaving Joseph in the pit, or 
the plagues of Egypt only half finished, just 
because she had read to the end of so many 
verses. She read the story straight through, 
stopping now and then to ask if anybody had 
gone to sleep. No one but Daffy ever had gone. 


SHOW DAY 


43 


In that way Tutu performed her own devotions 
and instructed her charges in Biblical history at 
the same time. A map of the Holy Land hung 
above Tutu’s bed. Rachel looked at it while she 
listened to the stories. She was a large girl 
before she knew what one long, strange word 
on the map meant — Mediterranean. She won- 
dered what it had to do with King David or the 
Shunamite Woman. Something, doubtless, but 
she never thought to ask. 

Paul had come to spend the night with Dick, 
and the next morning, when Tutu came to call 
Rachel and Daffy, both boys were gone. By 
what means those sleepyheads had aroused 
themselves nobody knew ; but they were gone. 
Up the long, pleasant street the boys had 
trudged, out into the country lanes where the 
summer morning lay dim, still, and cool ; out 
past Grandpa’s, where no one was astir but the 
gentle master of Linwood, whose fond habit it 
was to greet the dawn with his grateful praise 
for the gift of another day. The house looked 
strange in the deep shadow of the giant white 
pines, and it was yet more strange to go past 
and not to go in. 

At the corner of the road the caravan was 


44 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


turning. Great vans were there that held the 
tent canvas and the seats ; long wagons piled 
with poles and heaped with rope. Other vans 
with trunks and boxes ; other wagons filled with 
the impedimenta of the recently broken camp. 
There were troops of led-horses ; there were 
dozens of gayly painted wagons for the animals ; 
there were ponies and camels and elephants, 
and a silent, clumsy calliope, and oh ! there was 
the Golden Chariot for the band ! 

Other boys had come out to meet the show ; 
many other boys, in fact every boy in the Village, 
had come. They greeted one another with the 
blank stare of boyhood. There was one thought 
that animated every breast, and that was to get 
as< near as possible to the Golden Chariot, and to 
walk into town touching its glorious, gilded sur- 
face with their battered little hands. What was 
the good of such contact ? No boy knew, but 
it was a thing greatly to be desired. 

The caravan was not arranged in the order of 
its later progress. It straggled along the road 
in the most slipshod fashion. The horses were 
ungroomed, men lay asleep on the wagons, faces 
downward. There were no beautiful young 
ladies at all, only some ugly old women, with 


SHOW DAY 


45 


tired faces, who sat listlessly on the vans, or 
rode slouchingly on horseback. Covers were 
drawn over the best wagons, still one knew 
from the strange and fearsome sounds that came 
from under them that wild creatures of many 
strange and fearsome kinds were hidden under 
the dusty tarpauling. The hoys were too savage 
themselves to know how brutal it was to torture 
wild things with captivity. 

The elephants were turned loose in a pasture 
that had been rented for their use near the town ; 
so were the horses ; so were the camels. To 
see such creatures walking about in a clover 
patch, or the pasture where the big boys often 
played ball, was bewildering. Several of the 
little boys went no farther than the Virginia 
fence which guarded the meadow. They climbed 
to the top rail, and sat there spellbound. 

There was a freshly ploughed ring in the sod 
at the end of the Old Orchard, and there was not 
a cow in sight. Even the hookiest of the Ger- 
man cows failed to assert her rights of pasturage 
when Show Days came. 

Around the ring, wagons were drawn. Men 
cooked things over little open-air fires, and other 
men ate and drank, standing about or leaning 


46 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


against wheels. Then they unloaded the vans. 
There was first a mountain of canvas, then there 
were stacks of poles and piles of ropes. In an 
incredibly short time they were all raised, and 
pulled and guyed, and hammered and shifted into 
tents — a vast, central tent and a number of 
smaller ones. The smaller ones were for the 
side-shows. 

A great deal of water is needed by a Show. 
This the boys knew, and they knew something 
else as well, so they offered to fetch water. 
Buckets were given them, and they went to 
wells in yards near by and filled the buckets. 
Nobody would refuse to let the boys get the 
water at his well on Show Day, although he 
might, very properly, have objected to letting 
the Show men do so. How else were the boys 
to get their tickets to the Show ? It was emi- 
nently the thing for self-respecting boys to earn 
their tickets thus, even if they had more than 
twenty-five cents in their banks. Few boys had. 
So they carried and carried the water until they 
ached from head to foot, and their legs were 
soaking wet with the drops that had splashed 
over. Finally they had carried enough, and blue 
tickets were given them, — “ Admit one.” 


SHOW DAY 


47 


It was past eight o’clock when Dick got home. 
Tutu made him change all his clothes before she 
gave him the good hot breakfast she had saved 
for him. His dark little face was flushed, his 
beautiful, great soft eyes glowed. The little 
sisters gathered close to the end of the table at 
which he sat, and listened breathlessly to his 
accounts. Eleven elephants ! It was not to be 
believed ! Ponies not much bigger than Major ! 
It was incredible ! 

Rachel and Daffy were dressed for the day, 
not in their best, dresses, but in very pretty light 
cotton frocks. Daffy had on her coral beads. 
Rachel had lost hers, but when they had had 
their photographs taken for presents to the 
Grandparents, she privatel^^ borrowed Sophy 
Jane’s so that Daffy might not seem overdressed. 

Tutu was arranging a large basket. In it she 
was putting several kinds of sewing, with the 
proper sewing things. She never went out for 
a day of idle pleasure. She had, also, three 
lemon pies in the basket. There were, it is true, 
plenty of pies at the Old House, but it was Tutu’s 
idea of good manners to take things along for 
a present when one went visiting. The Doctor’s 
Wife at first objected to this practice ; but Tutu 


48 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


was much older than she, and much more mas- 
terful, so she gave over objecting, and the pies 
always went where the family went. They were 
delicious pies. Tutu made them before break- 
fast. 

By nine o’clock Sophy Jane and Jimmy ar- 
rived, and the Cousins, and a large contingent of 
other children. Processions always passed the 
Doctor’s. The yard was large and shady, and 
the fence vras admirably adapted to perching 
purposes. There were also wooden boxes to 
guard the big maple trees on the grass strip be- 
tween the sidewalk and the road, and a large 
and pleasant carriage block. So on days when 
there were parades it was a very desirable place 
to go to. 

The children chose places. The girls took the 
carriage block, the boys the tree-boxes. Sophy 
Jane and Rachel wished for tree-boxes also, but 
this Tutu forbade. She said their clothes were 
whole for once, and she had no idea of sewing 
up slits on Show Day, — so they stood on the 
carriage block. 

Farmers had been coming into town since very 
early. If their horses were safe horses, they were 
tied to posts along the streets ; if they were not 


SHOW DAY 


49 


safe, they were unharnessed and led away to 
stables. The farmers’ wives and daughters 
called on people whom they knew. A great 
many of the Doctor’s patients had already ar- 
rived to enjoy his porch. Mary Daily had placed 
all the dining-room chairs out on the lawn. 

Then the Germans from the Addition came 
down. They brought all their children. One 
would hardly have believed that there were so 
many children in the world. They sat on the 
Church steps, on the stones at the stone-cutter’s 
— anywhere. 

The Grandparents and all the relatives who 
lived in the country arrived. The little girls got 
off the block as each carriage drove up. Grandpa 
had brought a basketful of big hickory nuts ex- 
pressly for the children. Dick came down from 
the tree-box to count them out. Paul and Jim 
came down to get their share. The shares were 
always exactly alike when Dick counted. He 
was a just boy. 

The wind was from the west, and blew faintly 
and fitfully ; but by and by one could really hear 
the drum, — not plainly, — but still really. Then 
the tune could be distinguished. 

Then the procession turned into Main Street 


50 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


at the corner of the grove. There was no longer 
any cause for doubts and tremors ; there would 
certainly be a procession. 

First there came a large man on a white 
horse. He backed the horse all the way down 
the street, and shouted, and waved his hand 
mysteriously to the people of the Show. Prob- 
ably he owned the Show. 

Then came the Indians, feathers, moccasins, 
bows and arrows, scalping-knives, war paint and 
all. They did not look at the boys, but the boys 
were dumb with the rapture of looking at them. 

Then came the horsemen and horsewomen. 
What beautiful and gracious ladies ! What 
proud and handsome cavaliers ! What plumes 
and saddle-cloths ! What life could exceed theirs 
for splendor and charm ? 

Then came the camels. Then the open cages 
with the lions, like large, sleepy cats. Here, in 
another cage, sat a woman of peerless loveliness 
surrounded by the folds of mighty serpents. 
Here were wagons and wagons adorned with 
scenes from Scripture. The children knew what 
nearly all of them meant from the bedtime 
Chapters. On one sat a red-and-white clown, 
nodding and grinning and making grotesque 


SHOW DAY 


61 


faces. Now the elephants were coming. Yes; 
there were actually eleven ! Then the ponies ; 
yes ; Major was almost as big as they ! Then 
into every ear went a finger as the calliope thun- 
dered by, screeching out its pretexts for tunes, 
and then, after many other splendid and wonder- 
ful sights, the Golden Chariot holding the scarlet 
bandsmen playing away for dear life. Dozens 
of boys walked proudly beside the Chariot, touch- 
ing it with their hands. It was a marvel that 
none of them were run over, but none were. 

Young men from the country, driving with 
their sweethearts in smart top buggies, followed 
the Golden Chariot, and then the parade was 
over. 

Tutu marshalled the children and set forth 
with the basket over her arm. Some of the 
country relations said that they might spend the 
day as well as not, now they were in town, but 
Mary Baily would get the dinner. There were 
plenty of lemon pies left. Tutu made the 
children walk before her so that she could count 
them now and then, and she took them by the 
Longest Way, and so avoided what most they 
wished to see, — the crowd already gathered in 
the Orchard. 


52 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Dick and Paul ate but little dinner. They 
were so afraid of being late. The Show would 
not begin until two o’clock, and the gate-keeper 
had told them that the tents would not be open 
to the public until quarter-past one. Dinner was 
at twelve o’clock on purpose ; but the boys 
thought it wise to carry their pie in their hands 
and eat it out on the Common. Grandmother 
gave each one a pocketful of little sugar cakes, 
in case of an emergency. One of the Aunts had 
an orange apiece for the children, and another 
treated to five cents all around. Everything 
was as it should be. 

The little girls were not to go to the Show. 
They greatly wished to do so, but it was not 
considered best that they should. Lucy went 
by, and so did the Warrenders. Rachel lost her 
temper and stamped her foot. She said it was 
a shame that she could not go also — a burning 
shame. Then she began to cry. Then she left 
off crying and stopped being disagreeable. 

Grandfather did a very unexpected thing. 
No one supposed that he had noticed that it was 
Show Day ; but now he laid down the Commen- 
tary on the Bible in which he was reading about 
the Prophet Ezekiel, and said that if the little 


SHOW DAY 


53 


girls liked, he would take them out for a walk 
on the Show-grounds. He took off his spectacles, 
and he took up his hat, and then he was ready 
to set forth. 

It was decided that he shoiild take only two 
at a time. The Aunts feared that he might get 
to thinking about Ezekiel and forget how many 
children he had started out with ; so it was 
thought better for him to take two walks, and 
only as many children at a time as could hold 
fast to his hands. He took the smaller ones 
first. They came back, after a very long while, 
speechless with wonder and with joy. 

Rachel and Molly now took his hands and 
they went off in the direction of the main 
tent. People were going in, some paid at the 
door, and some held out tickets already pur- 
chased : red for Grown-ups ; blue for children. 
A great many people were going in. It certainly 
would be crowded in the tent. 

The band was playing, not music one knew, 
but a low, alluring marking of time : now softer, 
now louder, but always in minor tones. Dif- 
ferent kinds of music came from the smaller 
tents. One held one’s breath. 

Boys were prowling about, waiting to hook 


54 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


in. Some of them had already found an oppor- 
tunity to do so, and were wriggling in under the 
canvas, on their stomachs. Their legs stuck out 
so far it was a wonder they were not pulled 
back. Some of the Show men were laughing at 
the boys. It showed what very nice men they 
were, that they did not prevent the boys from 
hooking in. 

Behind the tents, horses that were not per- 
forming horses ate out of troughs, and drank the 
water the boys had fetched. Some men, not on 
duty, lay on the dusty grass and slept. Some 
had their hats pulled over their eyes. One man 
lay with his face bared to the skies. His hair 
curled a little over his forehead. Any one would 
have felt sorry for him, he looked so young and 
so sad. 

In front of the side-shows stood men who 
were talking faster than would have been 
thought possible for any one to talk. They were 
telling about what could be seen within, and 
coaxing people to enter. Pictures of the things 
to be seen for five cents or ten cents hung beside 
the tents. A giant, a dwarf, a fat woman, an 
educated pig, a five-legged calf, and the Wild 
Man from Borneo. There was an awful picture 


SHOW DAY 


55 


of this wild-eyed man. In his hairy hand he 
held the stump of the leg of a sailor. He had 
eaten the rest of the sailor, one inferred, since all 
that was left was the shoe by which he held 
the half-devoured leg on which there was even 
yet a good deal of sailor-looking trouser, and 
the flesh and bone that showed red and white, 
at the trouser top. It was only five cents to 
see the Wild Man, and both Rachel and Molly 
desired to spend the gratuity of the Aunt in 
looking at him. Grandfather reminded, no 
doubt, of the Prophet Ezekiel by the sight of 
the bone said no ” ; he was tired, and they had 
seen enough. So he took them home. 

The afternoon performance was over. People 
came out of the tent, — crowds of people. They 
did not look so fresh as when they went in. 
The Warrenders were really snappish when 
Rachel asked them if it had been a good show ; 
they were too tired to be friendly. Lucy said it 
was very good, but that she would have seen 
more had she not been compelled to sit behind a 
fat woman with a very large hat. She had lost 
a good deal of the trapeze things, and the jump- 
ings of the Queen of the Ring. She bore her 
misfortunes very well, better, perhaps, than she 


56 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


would have done if her seat had not been so 
close to the monkey-cage. 

Dick and Paul came home. They all but had 
“ cricks ” in their necks from trying to look 
everywhere at once. Paul had a headache. 
They had spent their five-cent pieces for pink 
lemonade, and Paul’s had not agreed with him. 

Tutu put all her different pieces of work into 
her basket. She had sewed a little on each 
piece, and felt that she had spent a profitable 
day. She also put in the empty pie-plates. She 
then put Daffy’s hat on. 

Rachel begged to stay over night. 

‘‘ Oh, do ! ” cried Betty and Molly. 

“Yes, Tutu, let the child stay,” said Grand- 
mother and the Aunts. So permission was 
given. 

Rachel looked after Dick and Daffy with 
some regret. It seemed as if they might be 
going away to a far country, and that it might 
be years before they met. 

“Give my love to Father and Mother,” she 
called after them. 

They played in the garden for a while. They 
dragged the sawhorse out of the woodshed, and 
impersonated the Queen of the Ring by turns. 


SHOW DAY 


57 


While one child rode thereon the others pranced 
about astride of sticks. Rachel then wound a 
towel around another stick, and played at being 
the Wild Man from Borneo with such ferocity 
and fervor that Betty was frightened half out of 
her life. Then it was supper-time. 

On Thursday night everybody who could go 
always went to Prayer-meeting. Grandfather 
always went, and made the second prayer. In 
it he asked God so fervently that his sins might 
be blotted out, that the children could not help 
wondering what he had done that was so bad. 
His was, however, a truly pious soul, and his 
prayers were the trustful speakings of a good 
man with his Best Friend. 

The Aunts were going also. Grandmother 
was to stay at home and see that all went well. 
As the day had begun so early, it was decided to 
put the children to bed before the ladies went out. 

Paul’s head ached very much. The door of 
his room usually stood open, and when Rachel 
stayed over night, it was he who usually begged 
hardest for one of her stories, but to-night the 
door was closed. Rachel had a good memory, and 
from a constant study of The Norse Tales, The 
Ardbia/a Nights, Miss Mulock’s Fairy Booh, and 


58 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Mr. Wind and Madame Rain she had a large 
and delightful T&jpertoire of stories. The best 
time for stories is, as every one knows, after one 
has gone to bed ; but to-night, as Paul did not 
even wish to hear about The Master Thief ^ she 
told it in whispers, so that he should not be 
kept awake by her voice. Molly dropped asleep 
before the story was ended, and after Betty had 
asked a few questions, why this, and why not 
that, she followed her into Dreamland. 

It was not yet dark. The second perform- 
ance of the Circus was about to begin. Peo- 
ple were passing on the street under the 
window. The music began again. Rachel 
knew nothing of the evil of the great world, but 
it seemed as if something strange and uncanny 
lurked behind that palpitating, alluring, com- 
pelling breathing of those low-voiced wind in- 
struments. Hers was a sensitive soul, and she 
felt ill at ease, she knew not why. 

She grew more and more wretched, and the 
safe shelter of dear Mother’s arms seemed far, 
far away. Why had she forsaken the sweet 
home nest ? What if something dreadful should 
befall in the night, and she should never see her 
loved ones again ? 


SHOW DAY 


59 


She thought of her sins. How many and 
how black they were ! Only this morning she 
had jerked her head angrily when Mother her- 
self had brushed the snarls from her hair. Only 
tliis afternoon she had stamped her foot, and 
cried with rage, because she could not go to the 
Show. It was all very well to say that if any 
one was honestly sorry for being bad and asked 
the Heavenly Father to forgive He would do it. 
What Rachel’s subjective little heart wanted 
was the comforting and forgiveness of the 
earthly mother. 

She sat up in bed. The music panted and 
coaxed. Nobody was awake. She could bear 
it no longer. 

She slipped quickly into her clothes. She 
took her shoes in her hand, and ran lightly 
down the stair. Grandmother was a little deaf, 
so she did not hear the soft turning of the front 
door key, or the gentle closing of the front door 
itself, or the slow click of the gate latch. 

The little child who had never been alone 
with the night before was alone now. 

She dared not venture across the Old Orchard, 
where, beside the lighted tents, many oil lamps 
flared. What if kidnappers should be about, 


60 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


and she should be seized and flung into one of 
the dark wagons ? O dear Lord, help a little 
girl to get home in safety to her mother ! 

Her feet flew over the walks of the Longest 
Way. Evil might be around her; evil was, but 
none happened to her. The Guardian Angels 
saw to that. 

At last she stood before the door of Oak 
House, and for the first time in her life she rang 
its bell. 

The Doctor was out on one of the errands of 
mercy that filled his life. Mary Baily had gone 
to vespers, and Tutu was in Prayer-meeting. 
The Doctor’s Wife opened the door. 

« Why, Rachel ! what in the world is this ? ” 
she exclaimed. 

“ I couldn’t stay away from you any longer. 
Mother,” sobbed the child, throwing herself into 
the never failing arms. I was afraid you would 
die in the night, and then you would never know 
how much I love you, and how sorry I am that 
I was so bad. It did hurt to have the snarls 
taken out of my hair, but I needn’t have been 
so hateful.” 

After Prayer-meeting, the Aunts went up to 
look at the children. There was the dent in the 


SHOW DAY 


61 


pillow where Rachel’s head had been, but there 
was no Rachel. The Aunts were dumb with hor- 
ror. What if — ? 

The Eldest Aunt was very matter-of-fact. 

<< She has run away, that is all, and is safe in 
her own bed. Of course, tired as we are, we 
must go down to Brother’s and see. I do liope 
it’s the last time that naughty child will ever be 
allowed to stay here all night. Even in daytime 
she is more than I can manage.” 

Yes, Rachel was safe in her own bed. Her 
arms were tossed above her head, and her face, 
rosy with sleep, was the face of a thoughtful 
little angel. . 

“ Nobody would believe she could be so much 
trouble when she is awake,” said the Eldest Aunt. 


CHAPTER IV 


Now there are only strangers in the Village ; 
but then it was but rarely that one appeared, 
and it was a great day for Rachel when Fate 
wafted thither a being beauteous named Tim- 
low — Miss Timlow. 

Whence came she ? Rachel never thought to 
ask. Like some splendid planet, some veri- 
table Venus, she appeared, and straightway the 
mind of the little girl was filled with joyous 
excitement by day, and with whirling dreams 
by night, in which there was but one figure, 
so very, very beautiful were Miss Timlow and 
her clothes. 

Miss Timlow had come to be a teacher in the 
Free School, and Rachel longed to become a 
pupil there. Prejudiced but powerful elders 
decreed that this was not to be, so it was only 
on Sundays, and by altering her own habits on 
that day, that Rachel could be absolutely sure of 
seeing her idol. Miss Timlow was a devout 


62 


MISS TIMLOW 


63 


church-goer, and, arrayed as Solomon never 
dreamed of being, and escorted by the young 
man to whom she was engaged to be married, 
she flooded the plain sanctuary with a glory it 
had never known before. It was wonderful ! 

Miss Timlow’s lover was a tailor. His clothes 
were fine and gay. His hair, worn very long, 
curled over his white collar, and was scented 
with the most delicious hair-oil. Of that Rachel 
was sure, for she smelled it distinctly at the 
Sunday-school picnic where he was in attend- 
ance upon the fair object of their common devo- 
tion. None of the men whom Rachel knew used 
hair-oil, so it was evident that he must be a 
very superior person. His teeth were of a daz- 
zling whiteness, and he showed them persistently. 
He was a truly beautiful young man, and quite 
worthy to walk beside the glorious Timlow when 
she went to Church of a Sunday morning. 

Rachel became suddenly devout. She missed 
no service. She gave over making faces at 
Lucy ; she stopped asking the Doctor how soon 
the sermon would be over, — the sermon that 
could not not now be too long, since she could 
spend all the time it lasted in the contempla- 
tion of Miss Timlow. 


64 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


It was not a very exciting Church. The 
singers sat in a gallery over the doors, and one 
could not, with propriety, watch their various 
movements. The Pastor stood or sat on a high 
platform in front. He was a very learned and 
godly man, but did not seem to know that the 
little ones are as much a part of the church as 
are the ruling elders, and while he gave the 
strong men the strong meat they needed — 
never thought of holding forth a little cup 
of the Milk of the Word to the babes of the 
fold. If one were small and restless, there- 
fore, after one had watched the families enter 
quietly, and take their seats in the pews ; after 
one had noted the various changes made by Fall 
or Spring upon the bonnets and wraps of the 
ladies, there was nothing to do until the next 
turn of the seasons but to watch certain pen- 
dants on the chandeliers, and to calculate through 
which heads of the worshippers below they 
would pierce in case of an earthquake, and the 
consequent falling of the great gas-fixtures. One 
fat man, with a bald head, sat directly under the 
largest iron icicle-looking point, and would, be- 
yond question, be the first victim. He slept all 
through the sermons. How dared he ? Why 


MISS TIMLOW 


65 


was he not awake, and praying to be delivered 
from the Bad Man, who would certainly get him 
if he died sleeping in Church. Rachel sat with 
thrills of horror creeping up her spine, waiting 
for the catastrophe which never came. 

After the advent of Miss Timlow, she gave 
over imagining the fat man as pinned to his 
pew by the overhanging spike, and noted only 
the perfections of the beauty, to whom, luckily, 
a seat in a front pew was assigned. She was 
large and buxom, was Miss Timlow. Roses 
of the richest crimson bloomed upon her cheeks. 
Her bright eyes glittered under dark, meeting 
brows, and on her red, red lips a smile of con- 
scious pride rested. Her hoops were of a size 
not attained by the modest crinoline of the 
ladies Rachel knew, and as she swept along on 
her French-heeled shoes, petticoats heavy with 
lace showed themselves. Around her neck were 
ruches, collars, ribbons, chains, upon her breast 
were laces, lappets, bugles, brooches. In her 
hair were combs, pins, puffs, curls, and crimps. It 
was in her bonnets that she was, however, above 
all mortals, splendid. What velvets and plumes ! 
What blondes and laces ! What ribbons and 
flowers and glorious, shining, twinkling things ! 


66 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


The world and the flesh in their most enticing 
form flaunted themselves in the eyes of the little 
maiden, and at last the other member of the 
famous trio began to whisper things that made 
her of all creatures the most miserable. 

The singers sang the solemn hymns. The 
Pastor said the short prayer, and the long 
prayer, and preached the yet longer sermon. 
Then certain highly favored citizens arose and 
passed the plates for the collection, walking 
gravely up one aisle and down the next. Ra- 
chel quite forgot that it was her Sunday to 
stand at the pew door and drop the Doctor’s 
contribution into the alms-basin, and she did not 
even notice that Dick had taken her place. She 
hardly knew when the doxology was sung, or 
when the heads were reverently bowed to 
receive the good man’s blessing before the 
worshippers were free to turn their faces home- 
ward with that cheerful sense of duty well 
done which always accompanies the end of a 
sermon. 

“ Come, Rachel,” said her mother, taking the 
hot little palm in her own cool one. “You may 
tell Miss Sarah that you will not be in School 
this afternoon, for we are all going out to 


MISS TIMLOW 


67 


Grandpa’s for dinner. Why, what is the matter, 
child ? Are you ill ? ” 

No’m, Rachel was not ill. Yes’m, she wanted 
to go to Grandpa’s, but mightn’t she sit next dear 
Mother on the back seat, and not with Father on 
the front one ? Let Dick help drive ; she did 
not care if it was her Sunday to do so. 

“ The child is certainly ill,” said the Doctor’s 
Wife. I never saw her so quiet before.” 

It was not an ill that any of the drugs the 
Doctor knew could cure. To a mind diseased, 
who can minister ? 

The days dragged slowly on. There was no 
joy in any of the schemes that Dick proposed or 
that Daffy devised. There was no charm in 
any of the games that Sophy Jane invented. 
There was no balm in the books she loved much, 
in the flowers she loved more, or in the tender- 
ness of the parents she loved most of all. A 
weary, drooping little figure was hers, listless and 
heavy-eyed, dogged by the haunting evil who 
had suggested the horror from which there 
seemed no escape. In her blind, dim way poor 
Rachel tried to pray for help, but she felt that 
to sin this but added sacrilege, and so forbore. 

The next Sunday was, if anything, worse. 


68 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Louder and louder whispered the mocking evil, 
blacker and blacker grew her sin. Miss Timlow, 
all unconscious, had donned a new bonnet. 
Tulle ! with roses ! Glass drops like diamonds 
hung from the rosy petals, and dripped over the 
puffs of lace that surmounted the puffs of hair. 
Wide strings, like films of dew-gemmed cobwebs, 
disposed themselves under her chin ; and over 
her crimson cheeks her eyes glanced about 
proudly as the beautiful tailor waved a large 
pink feather fan to and fro for her refreshment. 
Never before had she been so splendid. It was 
•terrible. 

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. It 
could be borne no longer. 

The bells rang out for Prayer-meeting — Ding- 
dong ! Ding-dong 1 Ding-dong ! 

Tutu was beginning preparations pointing 
bedward. The Doctor’s Wife was tying on her 
week-day bonnet. 

“ Mother, may I go with you ? ” 

Certainly not ! ” cried Tutu. “ I never heard 
of such a thing ! ” 

“Why do you wish to go, dear? You will 
get sleepy.” 

“ Oh, Mother, let me go ! ” 


MISS TIMLOW 


69 


“Just this once, Tutu,” pleaded the second 
in command. “ The little thing has been so 
strange lately I do not like to deny her.” 

So they fared out into the twilight, hand in 
hand, and presently were in the dimly lighted 
basement of the Church where Prayer-meeting 
was holding. The lights flared, but there were 
not enough of them to brighten the dark corners 
under the great beams which upheld the floor of 
the room above. There was a point of color in 
the red cushion on which the Word lay. The 
men and women who had assembled for the 
grave worship sang a few hymns, and the older 
men prayed, not, one would have thought, to a 
loving Father, who knew all the frailties of their 
dust, and who was love and mercy and tender- 
est pity, but to a great dread Judge and Sover- 
eign, a jealous God, ever watchful to mark the 
secret sin of thought, ever ready to punish and 
avenge. Far, far better than their stern creed 
were those good men, good husbands, good fa- 
thers, good citizens, who poured out their peti- 
tions in the dusky basement on that warm May 
night. 

Each word fell like a blow upon the tender 
little heart that ached in Rachel’s breast. If 


70 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


God were so fierce and grim, what hope could 
there be, here or hereafter, for such a sinner as 
she ? Perhaps her heart was hardened as 
Pharaoh’s had been, and there would be for 
her only a long life tormented by plagues, and 
an awful cataclysm al death ! She could bear 
it no longer. She would be firm in her resolve 
to confess. 

The door opened. In came the smiling tailor, 
wafting musky odors, and — woe unutterable ! — 
in came Miss Timlow, more beautiful than ever 
before, in a black gown trimmed with much 
red, and with a red bow in a hat of the most 
astounding coquettishness. 

Surely God had forgotten Rachel ! 

It was over at last. The Doctor’s Wife waited 
for Sophy Jane’s parents. Now that they had 
confessed themselves to be vile worms and mis- 
erable sinners, they and the Pastor and every- 
body else were cheerful human beings once 
more, who would wrong no man by word or 
deed, and who found their little corner of the 
great world a most pleasant place to dwell in. 
In friendly converse they stopped a moment at 
the corner, and then dispersed through the quiet 
streets, where the moonlight lay in great floods 


MISS TIMLOW 


71 


of silver, painting the shadows of the maples in 
wide washes of gray and black. 

Rachel held tightly to her mother’s hand. 
Every step was bringing the fatal moment 
nearer, and in the wild whirl of her pain she 
could hardly wait until they should be alone. 
At last, the last neighbor had said “ good night.” 

“Mother — ” the little voice began. 

“Yes, Rachel.” 

“ Mother, I have something to tell you.” 

“ Yes, dear. Mother is listening.” 

“ But it is very awful.” 

“ Oh ! I hope not. But even if it is. Mother 
is the best one to tell it to.” 

“ I don’t see how I can. It is so very bad. 
Worse than anything you ever heard of.” 

“ Go on, dear.” 

“ It is so bad that I know you can never love 
me any more ; but, oh. Mother, I cannot help it.” 

“ Nothing can ever make me stop loving my 
own little daughter. What is this awful thing ? ” 

“ Oh, how can I tell it ? I am so ashamed ! 
I prayed to God, but He did not help me. I 
could not help myself — indeed I could not.” 

“ My child, you alarm me ! ” 

“ It will be worse than alarm when you hear. 


72 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


You will never be able to forgive me. Maybe 
I’ll have to go away and earn my own living, — 
or beg.” 

“ Oh, no, Rachel. Go on.” 

“ Mother ! Mother ! I cannot help it, but, 
dearest Mother, I do think Miss Timlow is 
prettier than you are ! ” 

So the awful secret was out, and the awful 
tragedy was over. When the word was spoken, 
the obsession ended ; and the child, quieted and 
restored by the sympathy of the mother, whose 
amused smiles the friendly shadows hid, walked 
happily on. When they entered their own door 
and the lamplight fell on the delicately moulded 
features of the mother’s high-bred face, on the 
bright ripples of her hair, and the deep beauty 
of her large dark eyes, the scales fell from the 
wide blue eyes of the little girl. The world and 
the flesh had lost, the spirit had won, and the 
evil had gone forever as she clasped her arms 
about the neck of the one who stood in the 
place of God to her, crying : — 

“ Oh, Mother, it isn’t true ! It never was true 
at all! Miss Timlow — why. Miss Timlow is 
ugly ! ” 


CHAPTER V 

Mljat miglftt Ijabe been €vptcttt^ 

Except during the brief and tragic reign of 
Miss Timlow, Rachel’s thoughts had never wan- 
dered from their loyalty to the most beautiful 
and beloved of mothers. Had they done so, 
beyond question they had chosen to be one of 
the children at the Last Farm. 

Perhaps it was not really the last farm of the 
beautiful, bountiful country-side, but as it lay on 
the outermost verge of Rachel’s world, it bore 
that distinction in her mind. Why should there 
be more of a world than enough, and who could 
have wished for greater felicity than fell to the 
lot of those happy children whose lives were 
spent in and about the rambling old farmhouse, 
whose two front doors were but a symbol of the 
wide hospitality which would gladly have wel- 
comed all mankind to a share in its homely 
comfort ? 


73 


74 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Every one knows that mothers are of many 
sorts. Some have a great many more rules than 
others, and it must be owned that, in the eyes 
of the younger sort at the Village, mothers were 
rated according to the number and strictness of 
these. The mother at Last Farm seemed to have 
no rules at all, and it was small matter for 
wonder that as many little guests as might be 
crowded around her table, year in and year out. 
She had a most perfect appreciation of the 
things that make for the happiness of little 
people, who, in turn, rewarded her with the 
most lavish affection. One might eat what one 
liked in her orchard or garden, for she never in 
the least minded getting up at any hour of the 
night to administer the corrective paregoric. 
One might play out in the rain or before the 
dew was dried from the grass, since she had 
plenty of rather good-tasting syrups for colds, 
as well as all sorts of soothing balms for cuts 
and bruises. There were always jars of ginger 
crackers and fat doughnuts in her pantry — 
which had no key ; and, unlike all other known 
mothers, she felt that the children were never safer 
than when they sat astride of the horses turned 
loose in the meadow, or when playing about in 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 75 


the fragrant grasses of the haymow. The one 
thing she lacked was the power to forbid or 
curtail the happiness of the young things about 
her, and it was therefore a matter of course that 
she should be Aunt Em’ly to everybody who 
knew her. 

Rachel was asked to pay a visit to the Last 
Farm children. She was to go on Monday and 
to return with the family, which was invited to 
spend the afternoon and have supper on Wednes- 
day. It was to be a very large tea-party ; the 
Grandparents, nearly all of the Uncles and Aunts, 
all the visitors from Boston, a great many 
cousins, were asked, as well as a few very par- 
ticular friends. Two tables were to be set in the 
orchard for the Grown-ups, and the children were 
to have games under the pine trees until a second 
table could be laid for them. Everybody antici- 
pated a most delightful time, and Rachel nearly 
lost her mind from joy when Aunt Em’ly asked 
her for the extra day. 

Before breakfast on Monday her wardrobe 
was packed in a large valise. Tutu did this 
early, because, she said, she had not had a 
profitable Sabbath on account of Rachel’s fret- 
tings lest she should not be ready on time, and 


76 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


now that Monday had come she wished to have 
it done and over with. Tutu was to go to the 
Wednesday tea-party also, and would assist in 
waiting on the tables. 

It seemed as if the farm wagon would never 
stop at Oak House door, but it did come at last, 
and Rachel climbed up beside the driver. Dick 
and Daffy stood at the gate, looking wistfully 
after her as the slow horses trotted off down 
the street. The little girl turned and called 
‘‘ Good-by ” until she could be heard no longer ; 
and after that there were so many sights to see in 
the deep woods and pleasant lanes through which 
she passed, that it was no time at all before the 
horses had turned in at their own barnyard 
gate, and the children trooped out to welcome 
the newcomer. There was one extra child, — 
one of the Boston boys, — a very nice boy. 

It was hard to know what to do first, when 
so many delights stood at hand with ready 
ministry, but clearly the most important thing 
was to get rid of shoes and stockings. The Doc- 
tor’s Wife had tried to give as many directions 
for Rachel’s conduct as she could think of, but she 
had forgotten to forbid bare feet, and although Miss 
knew her opinion on the subject perfectly, there 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 77 

was a little pile of discarded foot-gear on the floor 
of the children’s room directly; After that there 
was a perfect riot of fun, until suddenly it was 
night, and the large moon was looking through 
the pine trees at three little white figures climb- 
ing into the big bed. Outside katydids were 
accusing and insinuating, crickets were chirring, 
and all the sounds of a hot Summer night were 
filling the air. 

Rachel was like an owl. Her eyes got bigger 
as night came on, and her fancies quickened 
as darkness deepened. At home, talking after 
prayers was forbidden, and besides, one was lis- 
tening to Tutu’s strident voice, reading out the 
old Hebraic histories. Here were keen listeners 
and no prohibitory rules, so Rachel began to spin 
out her tales. 

The boy from Boston had the next room. He 
could hear her voice through the closed door. 

« What are you talking about ? ” he called. 

“ Rachel’s telling stories.” 

“ What kind ? Girl stories ? ” 

“ No, splendid ones. Out of Arabian Nights P 

“Well, wait. I will pull my bed off on the 
floor, by the door-crack, and then if she will 
holler a little I can hear.” 


78 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


So Rachel “ hollered.’’ 

In the still moonlight it was easy enough to 
believe in the spirits and genii, the robbers and 
murderers, of the old Oriental imaginings, and it 
was not long before the little girls were wrought 
up to the highest tension by the terrors she 
related. The boy from Boston had read the 
stories for himself, so he soon left off listening 
and went to sleep. He had had a very busy 
day. He had trapped two gophers and had 
tanned their skins. 

The three heads were all under the sheet now, 
and all the hands were clutched at each other in 
fascinated horror as Rachel told on. More and 
more terrible grew the adventures of her charac- 
ters, brighter and brighter shone the moonlight, 
deeper and deeper fell the pine-tree shadows, 
louder and sadder grew the voices of the night. 
An owl began its shuddering cry. There was 
a rustling sound in the room itself, a low, 
stealthy sound. 

What if — ? 

There was certainly Somebody or Something 
strange in the room. 

Rachel was an arrant coward. 

“You look out, Mary; you’re the oldest — ” 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 79 


she whispered, pulling the sheet tighter over 
her head. 

Mary waived the honors of her age. 

“ Only two weeks older’n you,” she reasoned. 

“ Two weeks is a good deal.” 

“Well, I ain’t going to look, if it is,” said 
Mary. 

“You, Em’ly. You’re on the outside.” 

“ And be caught first ? No, ma’am ! ” 

“ There it is again. Oh, I wish I was home ! ” 

“ Whatever it is, you brought it on yourself. 
Miss Rachel,” said Mary, ungratefully, but in a 
most distinct voice. “ Nobody’d ever catch me 
talking as bad as you do ’bout those — Creatures. 
I ’spect they’re very nice, good Folks, and the old 
stories are all lies. They’ve no call to be cross 
at me^ anyhow, for I wasn’t the one to tell mean 
things about Them.” 

This vindication Rachel felt to be unjust. 
Mary had been the one to clamor loudest for 
the stories ; and as Rachel had merely repeated 
what she had read in a printed book, and felt 
herself in no wise personally responsible for her 
literary material, she would have liked to argue 
these points with Mary ; but as Em’ly was 
almost choking her, she could not do so. The 


80 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


eerie sounds continued intermittingly. So did 
the boding cry of the owl. 

Rachel thought of prayer ; but danger seemed 
too imminent for any but the most immediate 
action. 

“ Let’s all screech together,” she advised. “ If 
we screech hard enough, some one will be sure to 
come.” 

No wonder some one came. The triplicate 
screech would have awakened the Seven 
Sleepers. 

Aunt Em’ly appeared as if by magic. In one 
hand she held a candle and the bottle of pare- 
goric ; in the other, a strip of old linen and the 
Pond’s Extract. 

The mysterious noises were accounted for. 
The terrier puppy had crept surreptitiously 
upstairs, and was making his uneasy bed on 
the little gowns cast untidily into the corner. 

The next thing that happened was morning. 
It was raining, a most inopportune rain. In 
honor of the little kinsman from Boston, the 
Grand-aunt who lived at Locust Lane had bidden 
the children to spend the day with her ; and even 
as Locust Lane was no everyday place, so a visit 
thither was no everyday affair, and the patter of 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 81 


the rain upon the roof was a most unwelcome 
sound. Perhaps it might leave off before noon. 

Yes ; before noon the rain had changed into 
a warm, soft mist. The children decided that 
there was no need for them to forego the visit. 
The boy from Boston had a pair of tall rubber 
boots, and Rachel had her blue parasol, so they 
felt equal to anything. The things for the next 
day’s feast were preparing, so Aunt Em’ly and 
the elder daughters were only too glad to have 
the children out of their way, to think of offering 
objections. The procession set forth. 

The road could hardly have been worse. The 
rain had churned the deep prairie soil into a 
black batter. The Boston boy splashed on 
through the deepest puddles. The little girls 
hopped enviously along, choosing the least bad 
of the stepping-places. 

“We could walk on the fence ; sidewise, you 
know,” suggested Mary. “ I wish we were all 
gophers, then we could cut along like anything.” 

But they were not gophers, and therefore they 
cut along on the Virginian fence at a rate which 
promised but ill for their prospects of dinner. 
Then a hedged field intervened, and they were 
forced to take to the road again. 

6 


82 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


It was very unfortunate, but Rachel dropped 
her parasol into the ditch. She was greatly 
attached to the parasol, and in her distress she 
flung herself on her knees to recover it. After 
that there was no need to be careful of anything, 
and seeing her skipping gayly along, the Last 
Farm children forgot their clean raiment, closed 
their umbrellas, and followed suit. The rest of 
the journey was delightful, and they arrived at 
the farmstead of Locust Lane in high spirits. 

The Grand-aunt met them at the door ; her 
face became pale with horror. These her nieces ! 
That her nephew ! Her placid existence had been 
invaded by no element so foreign for many a 
long year. She hastily closed the door behind 
her, and stood where the gray mist touched her 
gray curls. Her delicate old hand trembled as 
she pointed toward the woodshed. 

“ Go in there,” she quavered. “ Sit down on 
clean logs, and scrape off the mud with chips. 
I think, I certainly do think, that no shoes and 
stockings at all would be less dangerous than 
those you have on. They are wringing wet.” 

This the children already knew. A little 
abashed, they filed into the orderly shed and 
took off their shoes. They felt the frank hunger 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 83 


of .the young animal, and they now began to 
wonder if any dinner would be given them. 
The Grand-aunt’s neatness was proverbial ; it 
was not probable that they would be permitted 
to sit in her nice dining room. 

After a very long time she came out, stepping 
daintily and swiftly, and followed by her 
old servant-woman. The Grand-aunt carried a 
large armful of yellowed muslins and old-time 
prints. Hannah had a large basin, some towels 
and soap. 

“ Go up into the loft with Hannah, Thomas,” 
said the old gentlewoman, sternly, “and put on 
exactly what she gives you without a word. 
Let me hear no word of rebellion. Mary — 
Rachel — Emily, take off your aprons.” 

Fifty years before there had been a little daugh- 
ter at the old farmhouse; a daughter grown, 
married, and “gone West,” so far away and so 
long before that even her name was not known 
to the children’s generation. A box of her cloth- 
ing stood in the room so long vacant, sacredly 
treasured by the fond mother, who lifted it 
out reverently, sometimes, and conjured up the 
little figure that had once drifted like sunshine 
through the quiet rooms. It was now a real 


84 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


pain to her to see the garments desecrated — 
but duty was duty. 

Rachel looked at Mary ; she looked at Em’ly ; 
she looked at herself, and broke into a loud wail 
of angry protest. 

“ I’d rather be soaked to the skin, and mud to 
the eyes, than dressed up in these old rags,” she 
screamed. “ The ruffles on the petticoats scratch 
my legs, and I can’t breathe with such a tight 
dress on ! You said you’d like to be a gopher, 
Mary; you’d wish it more than ever if you could 
see yourself now ! I am not going to stand it ! 
I shall go home this minute ! ” 

The stairway creaked, and Tom descended, 
followed by the grim Hannah. His face was 
scarlet, his lips were pressed tightly together, 
his eyes blazed with rage. His trim knicker- 
bockers had given place to a garment of nankeen 
muslin, yellow and frilled, — an unmistakable 
skirt ; and instead of his pretty blouse, he was 
compassed about by the purple, knitted folds of a 
woollen Joseph. Rachel’s wrath gave way to a 
peal of laughter as the Grand-aunt fled house- 
ward. 

“ You can play in the barn,” said Hannah, 
angrily ; “ I’ll fetch your dinner out ; but the 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 85 


house isn’t a place for the likes of you.” Hannah 
also departed. 

“ I’m glad we did get muddy,” said the adapt- 
able Rachel. « We’ll have a heap better time 
than we’d have had sitting up prim in the parlor, 
looking at picture books. We can play we’re 
shipwrecked, and the barn is a desert island for 
us to explore. Unbutton my back, Mary ; I’ll 
pop open if you don’t.” 

It was an ideal barn — vast and dim in the 
gray light. Up in the world of dusty rafters 
and glancing motes, the swallows had plastered 
their untidy nests, and the air seemed filled with 
whirling wings. In and out of the open win- 
dows flitted tiny flycatchers with their lonesome 
little cries. The great church-going rockaway 
stood in a corner beyond the little everyday 
cart, and the Great-uncle’s saddle, and the queer 
old side-saddle on which the Grand-aunt had 
made the great Tiegira half a century before ; 
bridles, bits of old rope and chain, dusty old buf- 
falo-skin robes, the red sleigh, and the ropes of 
bells that belonged to Winter, — these were all 
to be found in the sleepy old barn ; where there 
was, moreover, a mow of hay to slide on, and 
bins of slippery oats and golden ears of corn 


86 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


guarded by half-wild cats, now scurrying to safe 
shelter among the beams, whence their golden- 
topaz eyes glared fiercely down at the strange- 
looking invaders. Ah, that was a barn indeed ! 

Everything had been explored but a barrel in 
a corner. A lid was on it, and on the lid lay 
four old horseshoes. It would be a pity not to 
know what was in the barrel. 

Off came the lid, and out flew a hen, which 
fell exhausted on the floor. 

Tom picked her up. Her eyes closed weakly. 
It was hardly possible that a hen could be so 
very thin. 

Here was a tragedy. 

The children stood in the barn door and 
screamed for help. 

The house door opened and Tom held up the 
little hen. 

“We found her in an old barrel,” he shouted ; 
“ she’s nearly dead.” 

The Grand-aunt crossed the lane quickly, and 
took the poor hen in her arms. She burst into 
tears. 

“ I shut her up to keep her from sitting,” she 
said, “ and I forgot her. It was over a week ago. 
I can never forgive myself. Oh, Speckle, if you 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 87 


will only live, you may do just whatever you 
please, and never, never shall your head be cut 
off!” 

With unwonted tears lying on her fair old 
cheeks, she carried Speckle tenderly over to the 
house. It had been a most trying day, and she 
felt quite spent. The children looked at each other. 

“ Pm sorry for Speckle, but I ain’t sorry for 
the Grand-aunt,” said Rachel, spitefully. “ People 
who make such fusses about a little clean dirt 
and dress their company up like scarecrows 
deserve to be punished. You needn’t say 
‘ Shame ! ’ Tom, for I am glad, and if you saw 
yourself, you’d be glad too. I bet Dick wouldn’t 
let any old Hannah make a girl out of him 1 ” 

The rain and mist gave place to sunshine, and 
by four o’clock Hannah had all the soiled cloth- 
ing nicely washed and ironed and dried. The 
cakes were all baked, and Aunt Em’ly and the 
elder daughters, in fresh gowns, were sitting out 
under the pine trees when the quartet returned. 

“ Wonders will never cease ! ” said the older 
daughter, looking up from her book. “You 
have been gone all day, and you come home as 
clean as you went.” 

“Yes’m,” said the children. 


88 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


The tea-party day dawned bright and still. 
The rain had come on again a few hours before 
dawn ; but when the sun rose, it seemed as if 
every particle of dust had been washed away 
from the fresh and lovely world, that smiled 
and dimpled, and shook the pearls and diamonds 
from its leafy coronal, as a fair young goddess 
might have done. No one could have believed 
the world to be as old as it really is. 

The tea-party people were to come early, so 
there would be a long afternoon for social enjoy- 
ment. It was hoped that by three o’clock the 
last guest would have arrived. By one o’clock 
the tables were laid. The young ladies had 
trimmed them beautifully with cool ferns and 
delicate trails of creeping plants and misty grasses 
from the woods and fields. The flowers in the 
garden were left to be admired where they were 
growing, and then all the late-blooming roses 
and asters were to be cut for the friends to carry 
home with them. There was to be another sur- 
prise. Each guest was to be presented with a 
watermelon. It was not Aunt Em’ly’s idea of 
hospitality to let any one go empty-handed from 
her door. The watermelons were cooling luxu- 
riously in the ice-house already. 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 89 


Before they donned their own dainty ribbons 
and muslins, the elder daughters dressed the 
children. Mary and Em’ly hardly knew them- 
selves in the embroidered frocks reserved strictly 
for Sunday wear, and Rachel was more than 
pleased to find that Tutu had put her favorite 
gown in the bottom of the valise. It had little 
pink rosebuds scattered over it in a very artistic 
manner. All had on their best slippers, and 
were carefully warned against mussing or crum- 
pling their clothes. 

“Do you think it is safe to let them go down- 
stairs ? ” asked one of the young ladies. 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ I do not feel uneasy about Mary and Em’ly, 
but Rachel is always full of schemes that end in 
disaster.” 

“ There isn’t any danger,” comforted the other 
sister. “ They are going to sit on the carriage 
block, and watch for the company.” 

It was very pleasant on the carriage block, 
which stood on the grassy space before the gate, 
and which was itself made of some sections of 
old trees, over which gray and olive lichens were 
painting soft harmonies of color and texture. 
The shadows of the locust trees flickered daintily 


90 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


over the heads of the little girls. It was very 
still, and nothing could be seen down the long 
straight road. 

Across the way a patch of burdocks grew 
luxuriant. They were covered with green and 
purple blossom-heads. 

« See that splendid burdock,” said Rachel. 
« If we had a lot of those burs, we could make 
some baskets while we wait. I believe I’ll make 
one for Mother. She loves baskets.” 

“ It’s wet over there.” 

“Oh, not much wet. I can get them easily 
enough.” 

It was not much wet, for the ditch which 
drained the roadbed did not begin until after the 
burdocks had ended. Rachel returned to the 
carriage block in safety, her skirts held bag-wise, 
full of the fascinating burs. 

The basket was a failure. No company was 
in sight. 

“I could make us wreaths,” proposed Rachel. 
“ Lovely ones. Let me try on you, Mary.” 

Mary held back. 

“ It’s bad enough having snarls brushed out of 
ihy hair now,” she argued, “ let alone having old 
burdocks stuck into it.” 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 91 


“Well, you, Em’ly.’’ 

“ I don’t want to.” 

“ Are you a ’Fraid cat, too ? ” taunted 
Rachel. 

“No, I ain’t any ’f raider ’n you are ; but I’m 
not going to have my hair pulled out with those 
things.” 

“ Well, I am, then,” said Rachel, beginning 
her wreath. “ I’ve always wished I could be a 
Queen of the May, or a princess and wear a 
crown, and now I’m going to make believe this 
is a most splendid crown, with emeralds and 
amethysts. I wish I had long golden ringlets 
like yours, Mary. A crown will look some funny 
on my short hair, but I can make believe I’ve 
ringlets, too. See, now ! ” 

Short as her hair was, there was plenty of grap- 
pling-ground for the sharp spines of the burdock. 
She had put the crown on a little askew, — the 
point of the diadem was decidedly to the left of 
her nose. 

Rachel’s imagination was fired. She took off 
her slippers and stockings. 

“ I’m the Princess Barefoot,” she announced. 
“ My enchanted crown is invisible, and I’ve got 
to wander about the world, and have adventures 


92 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


until I meet the Real Prince, and when he sees 
me, he will see my crown also, and I shall be 
restored to my kingdom and marry my de- 
liverer.” 

She started off down the road. 

“Don’t! You’ll get dirty!” cried the little 
girls. 

“ Only my feet,” she called over her shoulder. 
“ I am going to wade in the ditch a little.” 

“ Sisters told you not to.” 

“ They said I was to keep my dress clean. 
They never mentioned feet.” 

The thick black mud oozed deliciously be- 
tween her little pink toes and about her ankles. 
Her skirts were very short. There could be no 
harm in venturing a little farther down the 
ditch. Mary could pump on her feet when she 
got out. One might as well have a little fun, 
now and then. 

The ditch was deeper than she had thought. 
She clutched at her skirts. Oh, it was very 
deep ! Perhaps it had no bottom at all, and she 
would sink and sink, clear through the awful 
fire in the middle of the earth, and come out 
feet foremost in China, where she knew nobody. 
Should she never see her dear ones again ? Why, 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 93 


oh, why had she left the safe carriage block on 
which the Last Farm children stood, clean and 
anxious ? 

A sumach branch hung over the black water. 
The little skirts were forgotten. There was a 
mad dash for life, a scramble, and Rachel stood 
safe upon the highway, a very pitiful little prin- 
cess indeed. 

Hurry up!” shrilled the little girls. <‘Your 
grandpa’s carriage is almost here. They’re 
bringing the Aunts from Boston.” 

Grandma was hardly the person Rachel cared 
to meet just then. She lingered behind the su- 
mach shelter until the ladies had alighted and 
old Robin was driven into the barnyard. 

How was she to get unseen to the house, and 
what was she to do after she got there ? 

“ Here comes your father,” piped the little sis- 
ters on the watch-tower. “And your mother, 
and Dick, and Daffy, and Tutu.” 

Rachel’s adventures had evidently begun. The 
moment was of the blackest, but it had to be 
faced, and somehow she lived through it. 

Tutu said the Doctor spoiled Rachel. Perhaps 
he did ; for instead of administering the rebuke 
she had so richly earned, he laughed both loud 


94 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


and long. Dick was, therefore, free to laugh 
also. 

The Doctor’s Wife grew pale with mortifica- 
tion and distress. 

Little Daffy began to cry. 

Tutu scrambled down over the wheels. She 
held a large parcel in her arms. 

“ Come straight down to the stable, Rachel,” 
she ordered. “ I knew you’d bring some sort of 
disgrace upon the family, and I thought if clean 
clothes would save it, clean clothes I’d bring. 
Thanks be to praise I’ve got my scissors in my 
work-bag, for every one of those burs ’ll have to 
be cut out of your hair, by main strength and 
awkwardness. Come along.” 

The older tea-party people sat in the shadow 
of the fragrant murmuring pine trees, enjoying 
the sweetness of the afternoon and the pleasures 
of agreeable society. The young ladies flitted 
about like lovely white butterflies. The young 
men were all gallantry and devotion. The chil- 
dren played about everywhere. Aunt Em’ly’s 
elder daughters were putting the last touches to 
the tables in the orchard. 

“ I really am puzzled about something,” said 
one of these. “ I was sure we put a gown with 


WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED 95 


pink rosebuds on it on Rachel, yet there she is, 
figuring away in a blue chambray. I wonder 
what it means, and I do wonder what is the 
matter with her hair.” 

“ I haven’t time for wonder,” said the other ; 
“but that is a dreadful child.” 


CHAPTER VI 


tl^e Congre^s^man to ®ea 

Culture was not spelled with a capital letter 
in the Village. The men did not think that the 
salvation of the whole world lay in its adoption 
of their particular views, and none of the women 
belonged to a club ; but there was culture of the 
highest type in the unpretentious homes where 
they lived and read and thought. Few of them 
had overlong purses ; their lives were full of 
simple everyday duties ; but their outlooks were 
wide, their sympathies generous, and their re- 
sponse to anything which appealed to their high 
ideals quick and sure. Engravings of the best 
pictures hung on their walls, and well-worn 
copies of the best books stood on their shelves. 
Their manners were without pretence, their 
speech pure, and their lives were like their 
English — simple, direct, and unpolluted. 

Into the little circle composed of such people 
as these there came, now and then, persons 
96 


HAVING THE CONGRESSMAN TO TEA 97 


of distinction from the great outer world. It 
was in the palmy days of the lecture lyceums 
that Rachel lived, and great poets, great 
philosophers, great orators, and great soldiers 
were more than once heard in the old hall, 
which, even were it still standing, could never 
hope to hear such voices again. Such men were 
never permitted to go to the taverns, but were 
entertained at the home of this or that hospitable 
citizen. Little parties, small suppers or break- 
fasts, or bountiful midday dinners were made in 
honor of visiting celebrities, and in that way a 
great deal of the best society was seen by those 
who, without any arrogance on their own part, 
or detraction or envy on the part of others, were 
known as the best people. 

There was a political campaign that Fall, and 
the Congressman was coming to make a speech. 
He was really a great man, honored from sea to 
sea, and as he and the Doctor and the Doctor’s 
Wife had, in a way, grown up together, he was 
to stay over night at the Oak House, as was his 
frequent habit, and a few of his oldest friends were 
to come and drink tea with him in the good old- 
fashioned way. His young wife had been long 
dead, and he had no children ; but he loved the 


98 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


little friends, and they loved him. He remem- 
bered their names, and never insulted them by 
calling them “Bub” or “Sissy.” People v^ho 
are really nice never forget children’s names, and 
people ’who will say “ Bub ” and “ Sissy ” never 
have any dear little silver three-cent pieces in 
their pockets, and never show one, on the table- 
cloth, how the mice run. The Congressman 
always did, and Rachel had two three-cent pieces 
of his bestowal in her best box. 

There was, as has been said, company asked 
to tea : Sophy Jane’s father and mother ; the 
Great-uncle, who was a judge, and his wife ; the 
Great-aunt who had lived in Paris ; the Minister 
and his pretty wife ; the other Judge, who would 
be sure to be late, even though his wife were 
asked also ; a lawyer who was a bachelor ; a 
pretty girl cousin who was engaged to the bache- 
lor ; and Miss Emily, who sang so well ; two, 
four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, when the 
host and hostess were counted in. The Doctor 
was sorry he could not ask more ; but the Village 
knew the limitations of each dining room, and 
nobody was offended at being left out. 

The Congressman was to come on Wednesday. 
The public speaking would begin at eight o’clock. 


HAVING THE CONGRESSMAN TO TEA 99 


so supper would be served promptly at six. In 
order that the Other Judge should be there on 
time, he was asked for quarter-past five. 

On Monday the washing was out on the 
clothes-line at the earliest possible hour. It 
was a good drying day, and by night many 
of the larger pieces were ironed. Tutu helped. 

On Tuesday the ironing was finished bright 
and early. The little garments, fresh and sweet, 
aired on the bars beside the stove. The best 
table-cloth and napkins had been beautifully 
laundered, and the snowdrops on them fairly 
shone with the excellence of the polish given 
them. Towels enough to last any Congressman 
for a week were laid aside for use in his chamber, 
and there were fresh covers for everything that 
could possibly be covered. It was ten o’clock 
before all this was done. 

Then began the real preparations : chickens 
were to be plucked, cake was to be made, citron 
was to be sliced, raisins were to be stoned, 
orange rinds were to be grated, lemon juice was 
to be squeezed, sugar was to be sifted. Every- 
thing smelled of spice — the kitchen was fairy- 
land. 

Dick hated doing errands, and really, when he 


’L.of C. 


100 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


had so many important things of his own to 
attend to after school hours, it was not fair 
of Tutu to save up so many for him. On Tues- 
day he came in at noon, and asked if there was 
anything he could do. To look at Dick’s eyes 
no one would have supposed that he knew he 
would get a handful of raisins. 

Rachel ran all the way home from school. 
Her stockings were down, and she had lost the 
note the German teacher had given her for her 
mother. She did not really do it on purpose, 
though Fraulein Bertha had distinctly said 
before the whole class that if Rachel’s exercises 
were marked sehr schleeht twice, and sehr schlecht 
with an understroke once more, she should be 
reported. She had noted the thick black stroke 
under the usual sehr schlecht that day, so she 
knew what was in the note ; but she had honestly 
meant to bring it home. Rachel was an honest 
child. 

Daffy was too little to be sent to school, so 
she had stayed all the morning with Tutu in the 
kitchen. A clean shingle laid on a chair, a lump 
of cake dough, an old thimble, and her toy rolling- 
pin had kept her busy and quiet. She kneaded 
and moulded and rolled and cut, then she recon- 


HAVING THE CONGRESSMAN TO TEA 101 


sidered, and kneaded again. By the time morn- 
ing was over, the gold-colored dough had assumed 
the hue of the richest fruit cake. Still Daffy 
rolled and cut. 

Rachel went up to her. 

“ Did Tutu make us any little cup-cakes ? ” she 
whispered. 

“ I don’t know,” said Daffy ; “ I was busy.” 

Sophy Jane and Jimmy arrived. With the 
freedom of long-assured friendship, they fol- 
lowed their noses around to the back door, 
which was standing open for the sake of air. 

“Hey-oh,” said Sophy Jane and Jimmy. 

“ Hey-oh,” replied the resident children. 

Sophy Jane and Jimmy came in. 

Dick opened his sticky hand and displayed 
the raisins. 

Jimmy helped himself. 

Rachel had nothing to offer. She looked at 
Sophy Jane ; she looked at Tutu. Tutu was 
beginning to frown. 

Rachel steered close to Mary Baily. Mary 
was Rachel’s intimate friend. 

“ I think Mother’d be pleased if you offered 
Sophy a bite of that citron,” she suggested; 
<<the side that’s got the most sugar on it.” 


102 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


“Pm doubtin’ if she’d be so plazed as ye 
might think,” said Mary Baily, dryly. “ But 
ril tell ye a saycret. Yer grandpa was here 
awhile back, — th’ Lord love him, for a kind 
ould man ! — an’ he fetched a basket o’ grand 
little pears. ‘ For th’ childer,’ says himself, 
that’s got the good heart in him. Slip by, 
Rachel, darlint, an’ give Sophy an’ th’ rist th’ 
wink, an’ ye’ll find th’ baskit behinst th’ hall 
door.” 

Rachel squeezed her hand. “ I love you, 
Mary,” she said. 

It was a very busy day. Synod was coming, 
and the Mission Band had to have an extra 
meeting. The Doctor’s Wife and Tutu both 
belonged to the Mission Band. The extra 
meeting was set for Tuesday afternoon at four 
o’clock. 

The children came home from school. Sophy 
Jane and Jimmy came also. There were more 
pears in the basket. Bartlett pears are not 
good keeping pears. 

The house was perfectly quiet. DafPy had 
been taken to the Mission Band. Mary Baily 
loved a bit of garden, and she was planting 
daffodil bulbs along the path that bordered the 


HAVING THE CONGRESSMAN TO TEA 103 


strawberry bed. The kitchen was dark and 
clean. 

“When I was here this morning,” began 
Sophy Jane, mysteriously, “ I saw a new chop- 
ping bowl ; Pve thought of some fun.” 

The rest were all attention. Sophy Jane 
always thought of the best things. 

“ We’d better do it in the dining room,” she 
said prudently. “ There’s a carpet there, and it 
won’t make so much noise. It’s going to be 
splendid, and it’s entirely my own think-up. 
Since the beginning of the world nobody has 
ever played it before. This is going to be its 
very first time. Dick, you get the bowl.” 

Dick got the bowl. It was very large, and 
quite new. Tutu wanted it to make chopped 
pickle in. 

“ Put it down on the floor,” commanded Sophy 
Jane. 

He put it down. Sophy shoved it nearer to 
the table. She measured distances with her eye. 
Then she shoved it farther off. Too far. She 
pulled it back a little. 

“ Take off the table-spread, Rachel.” 

It was tossed into the corner, a crumpled heap 
of red. 


104 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


“Now I will go first,” explained Sophy Jane, 
mounting to the top of the table nimbly, and 
making her speech from thence as from a pulpit. 
“The game is this: we are to jump by turns 
from the table into the chopping bowl. Me first, 
then Jim, then Dick, and Rachel last. The thing 
is not to upset the bowi and fall out. The one 
that doesn’t will get the prize.” 

“ What’s the prize ? ” asked Jimmy. 

“I have not decided,” said Sophy Jane; “but 
something splendid.” 

“ The pearl butterfiy ? ” the question trem- 
bled on Rachel’s lips. She hoped so ; she hoped 
not. How dreadful it would be if one of those 
boys should get it ! Boys are so good at jump- 
ing, she felt that she had no chance against 
them, yet she was eager to try. To fail would 
be to lose it forever ; it was a crucial moment. 

The pearl butterfiy was the rod of iron Sophy 
Jane held over Rachel’s head. It was a large 
flake of mother-o’-pearl, cut into the shape of a 
butterfly. It had a bit of party-colored chenille 
twisted to form a body and antenncB ; it was 
poised on a thread of wire, and had once hovered 
over the flowers on Sophy Jane’s best hat. The 
hat was long since a thing of the past, but the 


HAVING THE CONGRESSMAN TO TEA 105 


butterfly reposed in the bureau drawer. Rachel 
longed with all her soul to possess it. Sophy 
Jane cared nothing for it, but much for the 
power it gave her over her playmate. A condi- 
tional promise, a threatened withdrawal, a covert 
insinuation of a resolve to keep it forever and 
ever, or, in extreme moments, an announced 
determination to break it to atoms — these were 
Sophy Jane’s mightiest weapons in the subjuga- 
tion of her slave. 

Sophy Jane looked at her critically. 

“ No ; something else.” 

Rachel drew a long breath. Danger was over ; 
the chance of final possession was only postponed. 

Sophy Jane lifted her arms. 

“ One ! Two ! Three ! ” 

Her legs were long ; she was very active, but 
the bowl upset. 

Jimmy next. 

The bowl upset again. Jimmy was very fat, 
so he was not hurt. 

Then Dick tried. 

Failure number three. Tenure of life in a 
bowl is most uncertain. 

Rachel last. 

She breathed hard, she squeezed her knees 


106 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


together, she shut her eyes and launched forth 
into space. She did not even touch the bowl. 

Over and over, faster and faster, they scrambled 
and jumped and fell. Nobody minded bumps ; 
everybody was eager for his turn, and as yet no 
one had won the game. Rachel’s head ached 
from the contusion that was swelling on her 
forehead, her elbow was skinned, and she tore 
her frock. Like maenads drunk with pleasure, 
they pursued their wild sport. 

The door opened. Their mothers had walked 
down the street from the Mission Band, and 
Sophy Jane’s mother had stopped to look at the 
new dining-room wall-paper. They looked in- 
stead at the four madly jumping children, — hot, 
torn, dishevelled, scarlet, and wild-eyed. They 
looked at the overturned chairs, the crumpled 
table-cloth, and the rocking chopping bowl. 
Daffy began to cry. 

“This looks like your work, Sophia,” began 
one mother. 

“ Rachel ! — ” said the other mother. 

“No’m, Mother’s right,” owned Sophy Jane. 
“ I made up the game. Nobody’s hurt much ’cept 
Rachel’s head.” 

“You may beg Mrs. Doctor’s pardon, and go 


HAVING THE CONGRESSMAN TO TEA 107 


straight home. Both of you,” said Sophy Jane’s 
mother. « Study your geography lesson, Sophia, 
and then go to bed.” 

Wednesday was the day for the tea-party. 
The Congressman was coming on the half-past 
four train, and supper was to be ready at 
six. 

Vases of pretty autumnal flowers stood about 
in the parlor where a cheerful wood fire was 
burning, for the October evenings were cool. In 
the Mother’s room the best bed-things adorned 
the bed on which the ladies were to lay 
their wraps. Two oil lamps stood in front 
of the looking-glass by which they were to 
arrange their hair. The best pin-cushion was 
set out. 

In the dining room the table was laid for 
fourteen. The snowdrop linen was as smooth 
as satin, the white china shone ; the best silver 
and glass sparkled. There were to be chickens 
and mashed potatoes and cabbage salad. There 
were to be hot biscuit and both white and brown 
loaf bread. There were to be pickles and jelly 
and honey. There were to be coflee and tea. 
Then Mary Baily and Tutu were to take ofl 
these things, and preserves, floating-island, and 


108 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


all kinds of cake were to be passed. The cakes, 
on tall glass standards and in delicate silver 
baskets, stood on the side table where places 
were arranged for the children. The floating- 
island, in its tall glass bowl, was surrounded by 
fourteen of the dearest little custard cups. It 
looked most delicious; it was ; — everything was. 
Balancing the dish of custards stood another 
dish holding preserved pears. 

The children were dressed betimes. Tutu 
saw to that — best shoes and all. They were in- 
structed as to their behavior, and sent to look 
out of the front-room window. 

The Congressman was upstairs, — then he came 
down. He patted Dick on the shoulder, and 
pulled Rachel’s ear ; but little Daffy he lifted in 
his arms and carried into the parlor. By the 
Are sat all the guests, except the Other Judge and 
his wife. It was now quarter-past five, so he 
might be expected at any moment ; but he had 
still three-quarters of an hour of grace. 

Tutu and Mary Baily were in the kitchen. 
The dining room was closed ; only one lamp 
burned there, and it was turned a little low. 

Dick and Rachel went into the dining room. 

Everything looked delicious; — everything was. 


HAVING THE CONGRESSMAN TO TEA 109 

They looked to see if any frosting had cracked oil 
any of the cakes ; — none had. They thought this 
a pity — a great pity. They were fond of frosting. 

Dick stuck his finger into the floating-island, 
and licked it off with rapture. 

Oh, do let me have a lick ! ” begged Rachel. 
She whispered. 

“ I can’t ; it’s gone,” Dick whispered also. 

“ The pears look nice,” observed Rachel. She 
stood near the pears. 

“ They do so,” assented Dick. “ There seem to 
be a great many of them.” 

There are.” 

Conversation flagged. Rachel stood a little 
nearer to the pears. 

“ I wonder if they have begun to spoil,” said 
Rachel. “ Some did, — last Winter. Mother’d be 
mortified to offer spoiled pears to company.” 

She would so,” Dick was sure of that. 

“ She’d be glad to know in time if they really 
had.” 

Yes, there was no doubt of that. 

“ In my ’pinion we’d better make sure, ” Rachel 
whispered again. 

“ Maybe we had.” 

No; — Rachel’s had not spoiled, neither had 


no THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Dick’s. There were a great many in the dish as 
Dick had observed — more than could possibly be 
eaten after all those other good things. Grown 
people never save up room inside as children 
wisely do. They even eat bread when they’re 
invited out. 

“ I shouldn’t call it stealing if we each took 
one more,” said Rachel, the casuist. “ They’re 
our own mother’s pears. A body’d think she’d 
rather her own children ate them instead of 
strangers.” 

Dick hung back. “ No, not stealing — exactly.” 

« Anyhow, I’m going to have another, and 
maybe another after that,” said Rachel, firmly, 
helping herself to a pear with a finger curved 
like a fish-hook. “ Have some, Dick. It looks 
so selfish in me to be eating all these elegant 
pears by myself. Don’t drop any juice on the 
table-cloth.” 

Time flies when one is feasting. It was half- 
past five. The tall clock struck; the door-bell 
rang. The Other Judge was come at last. 

Rachel looked at the preserve dish. Then she 
looked at Dick. Then they both went into 
the dark front room and looked out of the win- 
dow. 


HAVING THE CONGRESSMAN TO TEA 111 


The door from the kitchen opened, then the 
door from the parlor opened also. Tutu and the 
Doctor’s Wife were in consultation. The parlor 
door was opened again, the Doctor was called 
out. 

In a moment he came to the front-room door. 

“ Rachel ! ” he called. His voice was quiet — 
very quiet. 

« I’m here, too, sir,” said Dick. 


CHAPTER VII 


an affliction in t\)t iFamil^ 

There was heavy sorrow in the Old House 
beyond the Old Orchard. A Presence, still and 
terrible, had been knocking at the door for many 
days. Loving hands had tried to bar his quiet 
footsteps, but in vain. He had passed up the 
wide stair, and had tapped softly at the door of 
the Youngest Aunt, who was a widow. She had 
been a widow ever since the children had known 
her, which had not been so very long, for she 
had lived in the far West, and had only come 
home because of the black veil she wore. She 
was a delicate, frail girl, worn with grief ; and 
because she was so frail, and because she had 
no children of her own, and was not accustomed 
to the noise and bustle they make, the little people 
annoyed her, and she failed to win their hearts 
as the other Aunts had won them. She did not 
even rank with Cousins, far less with Grand- 
aunts, in their affections. 


112 


AN AFFLICTION IN THE FAMILY 113 


The Grown-ups loved her very truly and 
tenderly, and the Doctor and the Doctor’s Wife 
spent days and nights beside her bedside trying 
to keep the white Presence from touching her. 
In the Village there were no paid nurses. 
Mothers and aunts and friends, and even neigh- 
bors, did the nursing ; not, perhaps, with the 
skill of the deft, white-gowned graduates who 
have so much knowledge stored up under their 
coquettish caps, but certainly with more sym- 
pathy than money can ever command. It 
seemed a kindlier way. 

Finally a night came when the Presence would 
no longer be denied. He whispered something 
into the dull ear, and he took the listless hand 
into his own, and straightway all the frailty and 
pain and loneliness fell away, and Bright Beings, 
whom the weeping watchers could not see, led 
the tired spirit up the shining pathway to the 
Better Country it had longed to see. If the 
watchers had but seen that which was before 
their very eyes, how quickly they would have 
left off weeping ! 

Early the next morning the news came to the 
Oak House — the news that Aunt Bess was 
gone. Dead, they said. 


114 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Now Death had been in the Village before, and 
Rachel knew well that when he came people 
who were quite ordinary, and had never been in 
the least interesting before, became all-important. 
The green shutters of the house he had entered 
were closed. Crape hung on the knob of the 
front door-bell. Ladies dressed in black silk 
gowns went around to the side door, carrying 
the prettiest flowers from their gardens. Little 
sheets of black-edged paper were carried about, 
inviting people to the funeral. Then coaches 
never seen at any other time appeared as if by 
magic, and stood in rows before the house, and 
there was one sad vehicle at which one feared to 
look, but which had precedence of all. Children 
stood in frightened, fascinated rows against the 
fences across the street, and dared not go to bed 
unshriven for nights and nights thereafter. Yes, 
it was a very important thing to have an afflic- 
tion in the family. 

Breakfast over, and Tutu’s over-vigilant eyes 
by great good hap evaded, Rachel inserted her- 
self into her blue gown with all haste. It was 
only her second-best dress, but her best hat could 
be none too good for such an occasion, and as 
there was no use asking Tutu’s permission, she 


AN AFFLICTION IN THE FAMILY 115 


took it out of its box, slipped the string under her 
chin, looking in the mirror to see the effect of 
the bows standing stiffly above her close-cropped 
head, and felt herself equal to anything. She 
listened with prudent ears until she heard Tutu’s 
loud voice in the kitchen, then she slipped down 
the stairs, out of the front door, and into the 
street. 

“Mother would like the Grand-uncles and 
Aunts to be told first,” she decided, so to their 
houses she repaired, stopping to tell the news to 
the acquaintances whom she met on the way. 
Rachel’s acquaintance was very wide, much 
wider than that of any member of the family, 
so it took her some time to liiake the round of 
the relatives whom she wished to shock and sur- 
prise. The sad tidings had, in each case, gone 
before her, and she was not as much noticed as 
she had hoped to be, except by one Great-aunt- 
by-marriage, who suggested with unnecessary 
emphasis that Rachal would do well to go home 
and stay there. This lady was not a favorite, 
any more than poor Aunt Bess had been. She 
had such an annoying way of taking opposite 
views. 

It would not do to slight the Particular 


116 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Friends, and who so particular as Sophy Jane’s 
mother ? A difference of opinion on some mat- 
ter of importance discussed with Sophy Jane 
led to an inevitable conflict, and the homeward 
journey was marked with a sniff of anguish very 
hard to be borne, Rachel thought, by a person 
already stricken by sorrow. 

The early dinner was over. Mother had not 
come down from the Old House, and Tutu had 
gone thither to assist in the gloomy bustle at- 
tendant upon such an event. It was very lonely. 
Perhaps one might be allowed to hang on the 
front gate? There could be no harm in that 
that Mary Baily could see ; so Rachel hung on 
the gate. 

People were passing, — many people; and many 
more seemed to be gathered down beyond the 
Court-house. Some one told her that a wonderful 
thing was about to happen, — a Rope Dancer was 
to perform on a cable stretched high in the air 
and quite across Main Street. 

Rachel fired instantly. It might have been 
possible that she should deny herself the delight 
of being thrilled by so fearsome a sight; but 
there was little Daffy — Daffy who ought to be 
taught things. Daffy had never even heard of a 


AN AFFLICTION IN THE FAMILY 117 


Rope Dancer, and might never have an opportu- 
nity to see one again. Duty pointed plainly and 
sternly doAvn the street. Daffy’s education 
must not be neglected even if Aunt Bess was 
dead. 

“You’d better not, Rachel,” warned Dick. 
“ Mother sent word that you were to behave, 
and I shouldn’t call it behaving going about to 
see sights.” 

“You’re going yourself,” replied the astute 
Rachel. 

“ I’m a boy ; girls are different. They have 
to be prim like ladies. Boys can go anywheres. 
You’d better not.” 

So off went Dick. He had on his everyday 
jacket and a rumpled collar, yet nobody told 
him to stay in the yard. The world was very 
unjust. It was miserable to be a girl. The 
spirit of a later age stirred within her. 

“ Daffy,” said Rachel, persuasively, “ wouldn’t 
you like to go and see a man walk across the 
street on a rope high up in the air ? ” 

“ He’d fall off,” said Daffy. 

“ Oh, no, he won’t. He sticks on just like a 
fly on the ceiling. It’d be a great thing for you 
to see.” 


118 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


“ I don’t want to see. He’ll fall off.” 

“ Fiddlesticks ! He does it every day. Come, 
Daffy.” 

“ I’m afraid.” 

« ’Fraid cat ! ’Fraid cat ! ” taunted Rachel. 
Her temper was rising. It was too stupid in 
Daffy, when she was willing to do so much for 
her. 

“ Oh, don’t, Rachel ! I’ll go ! I’ll go ! ” 

“That’s a good little girl, and now I’ll tell 
you what. Aunt Bess is dead, you know, and 
we must be as respectable as ever we can, be- 
cause we shall be a great deal noticed. Mother’d 
want us to wear our best clothes — if we 
went — ” she added a little dubiously. “ Don’t 
you want to have on your new red dress and 
your hat with the quinch blossoms on it, and 
your red shoes ? ” 

Daffy loved pretty things. 

“Yes,” she said. 

She cried a little when Rachel pulled her hair 
in her endeavor to curl the brown ringlets that 
Mother wound so easily about her finger; but 
she stopped when the pretty gown and shoes 
went on. Not all the buttons of either were 
buttoned, since time pressed, but enough to hold 


AN AFFLICTION IN THE FAMILY 119 


the things together ; and when the hat with the 
crimson flowers went on, the little sister was a 
lovely little study in color. Rachel’s own toilet 
was the affair of a moment only. She did not 
care for new shoes ; — those she had on were 
not so very dusty or old, — and she climbed into 
the fresh “ brilliant ” without much ceremony, 
managing to get three or four buttons into as 
many button-holes, haphazard, with scanty loss 
of time. The best hat went on as a matter of 
course. She liked best hats. 

So forth they fared. 

“We must walk slow. Daffy,” said Rachel, 
impressively. “ Families in affliction always 
walk slow. I’ve seen them at funerals. And 
you wait here,” she added in after thought. 
“ I’ve got to go back and get Mother’s veil. 
Ladies always wear veils to funerals, and this is 
a kind of one. People might say things if I 
went to a rope dancing without a veil.” 

Obedient Daffy stood sucking her fat thumb 
until Rachel reappeared with the folds of hand- 
some lace flapping about her thin, eager face; and 
then, hand in hand, and keeping step to some 
imaginary dirge, they walked slowly along the 
street. 


120 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


« What’s that?” asked Daffy, pointing to a 
dark spot against the eastern sky. 

“ That ? oh, my goodness gracious ! that’s the 
Rope Dancer coming out to begin. If we don’t 
hurry, we’ll miss some. Run, Daffy, with all 
your might ! ” 

“ Wait till I pull up my stockings. You didn’t 
put on my garters.” 

“ Never mind your stockings. Silly ! Do 
you want to miss the starting out? Run, I 
say ! ” 

« Are those the Doctor’s children tearing along 
like wild things ? ” asked the Minister’s Wife, 
who was coming out of the Milliner’s shop. 
“ Do look. Miss Quid ! Rachel has on her 
mother’s Brussels lace veil. Her clothes are 
only half on, and — poor Daffy ! Oh ! the little 
thing has fallen down. Her stockings are all 
under her poor little feet. People who have 
no children cannot be too thankful,” she added 
piously. 

‘‘ People who might have had that kind, can’t,” 
acquiesced Miss Ould, tartly ; “ but very few are 
afflicted with a limb like that Rachel. She was 
here yesterday, begging for some scraps of crape. 
She said her doll would most likely have to go 


AN AFFLICTION IN THE FAMILY 121 


into mourning shortly, and she wished to have 
her things ready. Did you ever see her doll ? 
Not a whole inch to its body, or a rag of proper 
clothes to its name. She’s an awful child.” 

“ I’m sorry for her parents,” said the Minis- 
ter’s Wife, stepping daintily away in the direction 
opposite to the crowd which was now aug- 
mented by the arrival of two dishevelled and 
gasping little figures. Daffy, indeed, announced 
her presence by loud wails in honor of a skin- 
less knee ; but Rachel, with her veil down, 
glowed scarlet in her efforts to quiet the little 
sister, to preserve the family dignity, and to 
watch the Dancer at the same time. 

What a wonderful man he was, to be sure ! 
What beautiful clothes he wore ! What un- 
heard-of pink stockings, and what a gayly plumed 
hat ! How lightly he balanced his wand of 
gold, and with what confidence he stepped along 
that gossamer thread in mid-air ! Ah 1 surely he 
was falling. Cold chills rushed deliciously down 
the spine as one saw him fall, recover himself, 
and whirl and wheel about the magic rope, the 
plumed cap and glittering wand hashing in the 
sunshine. What a king of men must he be, that 
beautiful brilliant creature, who could sail like a 


122 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


bird through the summer skies ! Why should a 
vision so delightful ever fade out into the com- 
mon light of day ? Why could not a moment 
of such ecstasy last forever ? 

“ Rachel, come home this instant ! ” 

The ecstatic moment was at an end already. 
Here was — not the Doctor, who had humor, 
or the Doctor’s Wife, who had tenderness — 
but Tutu, the stern avenger of all lapses from the 
strictest code of morals ; Tutu, who, return- 
ing from the Old House, had missed the children 
and with a fatal instinct had followed to take 
her victims red-handed ; Tutu, who carried the 
key to the closet in which familiar prison many 
a long hour was darkly passed ; Tutu, who con- 
trolled, absolutely, the bread-and-jam market, 
and in whose hands was the hour when bed 
could be no longer avoided. 

There was a consultation before the funeral. 

« The child is so excitable,” said the Doctor’s 
Wife ; « she has gotten herself into such a state 
about poor Bess, and the Rope Dancer, and the 
punishment Tutu gave her before I got home, 
that I really do not know what to do with her. 
Her father says emphatically that she is to be 
left at home. He hates scenes, and he says she 


AN AFFLICTION IN THE FAMILY 123 


will be sure to make one if we bring her up 
here.’’ 

“ Poor little dear,” said the softest-hearted of 
the Aunties ; “ let her stay at home. I never 
believed in taking nervous children to sad 
places.” 

“ She’ll make trouble either way,” observed 
the Bachelor Uncle, consolingly. “ She has a 
genius for it.” 

“ Let her stay and play in the garden until 
five o’clock,” said the Other Aunt. “ And then 
let her join us here. You know Mother wishes 
to observe the old custom they had at home in 
Virginia, and to have us all take our first meal 
together — afterward.” 

So Dick and Daffy were dressed betimes, and 
drove away in a coach. It was with a pang of 
envy that Rachel saw this mark of distinction 
bestowed upon them. She had screamed with 
terror at the idea of going with them ; now she 
wept with misery because she had been left 
behind. The house had been locked, and she 
had been strictly bidden to stay in the garden 
or on the porch, where her favorite “ Mr. 
Wind and Madam Rain ” lay on the step. 
Her best hat hung on the door-knob, waiting 


124 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


until the Town Clock should strike five, when 
she was to go to the Old House. It had 
been the best the Elders could do for her. Tutu 
was quite too much one of the family not to be 
allowed to share outwardly in its sorrow, and 
so was Mary Baily ; so they also had entered a 
coach and been driven off to the house of mourn- 
ing. 

Rachel sat on the step and leaned her head on 
her hands. No one passed by to notice this in- 
teresting attitude, so she took up a position nearer 
the gate and began to sing. She loved to sing, 
and the neighborhood was well used to her 
shrill carollings. In her present condition she 
felt that something distinctively religious was 
demanded; so looking over her rejpertoire of sacred 
music, she selected the most doleful and began : — 

“ The day is past and gone, 

The evening shades appear. 

Oh, may we all remember well 
The night of death draws near.^’ 

Even this mournful wail brought no sympathetic 
friend into view. No one heard her but the 
robins in the ash tree, and the chipping sparrows 
in the arbor vitae, and they were rejoicing in the 


AN AFFLICTION IN THE FAMILY 125 


Lord with all their glad, grateful hearts, and not 
bothering in the least about the “ night of death.” 
They left all that to the Father of Life, and were 
not moved in the least by the dismal hymn. 

It was very dull. Perhaps she might get ill 
and die there all alone. Perhaps robbers might 
come, or gypsies. It was certainl}^ not safe. 
She went to the gate and balanced herself 
thereon, prone upon her stomach. Two little 
girls were within sight. She did not know the 
little girls, but she was not averse to extending 
her visiting list. 

“ Hey-oh ! ” she called. 

“ Hey-oh, yourself,” the little girls responded. 

“ Come over.” 

“We can’t. We’re waiting for the Perkinses.” 

“ Well, bring them along,” she cried sociably. 
“We can play hide-and-seek in the garden. 
Wait till I go and get Jinny.” 

Jinny’s parents had not been long in the 
Village, and knew but few people and but little 
of what was happening ; so Jinny’s mother saw 
no reason why her little girl should not accept 
the very politely expressed invitation of the 
Doctor’s daughter, and she said, “ Yes, Jinny 
might go and play.” 


126 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


As they hurried up the street, they saw three 
boys who were not in Dick’s good graces, but 
whose names were not unknown to Rachel. 

Come up to my house,” said that now emanci- 
pated lady. “ We’re going to play hide-and-seek 
in the garden. Oh, no ! I’ll tell you what we 
can do better’n that. We’ll go to the Stone- 
cutter’s and sit on the gravestones and see my 
Aunt’s funeral go by. It’s going to be an awful 
big one. Masons, perhaps, and — and — Firemen, I 
shouldn’t wonder, and I ought to see it, so’s I can 
remember it as long as I live ; — my own Aunt’s 
funeral,” she added impressively. “ Mother gave 
me a little bag of lemon drops, and we’ll suck 
them while we wait. There are the Perkinses 
and the others. Jinny, you call them to come, 
and motion to them to hurry. I choose that 
monument to sit on. It’s the highest, and I 
ought to have it. Get off, Dan Davis, this min- 
ute ! I should think you’d be ashamed to want 
to take it away from me. It’s my Aunt that’s 
getting buried, not yoursP 

Slowly through the blossomy Old Orchard 
and down the shady street came the sorrowful 
procession. The day was warm, as late May days 
sometimes are, and Village etiquette did not 


AN AFFLICTION IN THE FAMILY 127 


demand any uncomfortable drawing of carriage 
curtains, even of those behind which the stricken 
old parents wept over the last parting with their 
youngest born. People, peeping from the win- 
dows, saw the brothers and sisters, and the long, 
long line of relatives and friends who were show- 
ing their respect in the kindly old-fashioned way 
of seeing the mortal bodies of those who had 
left them, laid in the safe keeping of the gentle 
earth ; and although the Masons and Firemen of 
Rachel’s imagination were not there, it was a 
long retinue that came into view. The horses 
walked at their slowest pace, and then there came 
a moment when all grief was lost in the fresh 
scandal Rachel was bringing on her name. 

Smiling joyfully, waving her scrawny arms in 
recognition, she sat perched upon the highest 
tombstone surrounded by children whom no one 
knew, who smiled because Rachel smiled, and 
set up a shrill cheer as each coach passed by. 

« My Grandparents are in that carriage,” an- 
nounced the excited Rachel, “ and my two Aunts, 
I wish they’d look out. Oh, look ! Here’s Father 
and Mother, and Dick and Daffy. Dick sees 
me. Hey-oh, Dick I Hey-oh, Daffy ! Mother ! 
Now they’re past, and those are my other Grand- 


128 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


parents. I wonder what makes Grandma look 
so cross. Grandpa laughed, I saw him. All the 
rest are Uncles and Aunts and Cousins and Par- 
ticular Friends. We have a large connection, 
and it’s very gratifying to have so much sympa- 
thy at this time,” she went on, quoting a remark 
she had overheard among the Grown-ups, as the 
last carriage passed, and she, shifting a lemon drop 
from one cheek to the other, prepared to descend 
from her perilous coign of vantage. “ Now you 
can all go home. I must go and get my hat off 
the door-knob, and go up to the Old House. It 
isn’t five o’clock exactly, but we’re all to eat 
supper up there together. It’s an old custom in 
Virginia, when a Family is in affliction.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


ifetcljing t^e ^poona 

Nobody in the Village had ever heard of a five 
o’clock tea ; nobody had ever given a diner d la 
Busse. The young people, just budding into 
manhood and womanhood, had little dances 
now and then ; but they had never heard of a 
cotillon^ and the gowns worn at a modern small- 
and-early would have filled them with amaze- 
ment. It is easy to see, therefore, how primitive 
the Village was. Yet there, as everywhere, Cupid 
was busy, and there was a great deal of very 
pleasant hospitality. People went out often 
to spend the day, and they constantly took tea 
with each other in a very sociable and informal 
way ; while once or twice during the Winter the 
houses of persons of consequence were opened 
to as many friends as could be comfortably 
accommodated. These reunions were called 
parties. They began at eight o’clock, and be- 
fore midnight the silver had all been washed 


130 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


and put away, and the lights which had blazed 
a welcome far down the snowy streets were 
out for the night. 

There was no caterer from whom a supper 
could be ordered. Everything was made in the 
home of the hostess, unless she had sisters. In 
that event, they made the lemon jelly and the 
cocoanut cakes. The whipped cream was always 
made by the giver of the feast herself, and no 
hand but hers was light enough to heap it into 
the tall sillabub glasses, or to drop in the conserved 
cherry that was its crowning grace. If anybody 
had red geraniums blossoming in her window, and 
she were invited to a party, she cut her treasures 
on the fete day and carried them to the party 
house, where they were placed in a vase on the 
piano. Otherwise there would have been no 
flowers. People borrowed or loaned cake stands 
and baskets, and teaspoons, and even plates, 
quite openly. It made a guest feel at home to 
see her own initials on the fork with which 
she ate her salad ; and it was no derogation to 
the dignity of a hostess to hear the whispered 
comment : — 

“ How her Aunt Henrietta’s silver candlesticks 
do set off the table I ” 


FETCHING THE SPOONS 


181 


The Doctor’s Wife was going to give a party. 

The Minister’s Wife’s mother had been paying 
her daughter a visit, and the party was to be 
given in her honor. The Minister’s Wife had 
given two parties. To the first, all the congre- 
gation and all the friends outside the congrega- 
tion whose names began with letters up to M 
were invited; to the second, the people whose 
names began with letters after M. Thus, even 
captious persons could not complain that they 
were asked to a “second-best” party. The 
parties were given on two succeeding nights, so 
that things left over from Tuesday’s feast would 
still be fresh on Wednesday, and the borrowed 
things could stay on until all was over. It was 
very well planned. 

The Doctor’s house was larger than the Manse, 
and it would not be expected that he should 
invite all his fellow-churchgoers, or even all his 
patients, so there would be a party at Oak 
House on one night only. 

The list was made out by streets. One of the 
Aunts said she would see to the invitations, so 
on the Saturday before the Wednesday of the 
party she sat by Jimmy in the Doctor’s sleigh, 
with Paul and Dick crouched at her feet among 


132 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


the buffalo robes and wolfskins, and they jingled 
about from house to house. The boys got out 
by turns and pulled at the door-bells. When the 
door was opened (as it nearly always was) by the 
lady of the house, they made very nice bows, and 
said, “ Mother ” (or “ Aunt Kitty ”) “ was going 
to have a party next Wednesday night, and she 
hoped Mr. and Mrs. Smith would come.” Every- 
body knew the party would begin at eight 
o’clock, so there was no use of repeating that. 
Everybody knew Dick and Paul, so there was 
no necessity to say that the party would be at 
the Doctor’s ; and, besides, everybody had heard 
of it already, and was ready to accept the invita- 
tion promptly and with thanks. Then the boys 
jumped off the porch on the side where the snow 
was deepest and waded back to the sleigh. So 
in a little while all the people were invited. 

On Sunday, in the Sunday-school, the children 
were very polite to Dick and Rachel. Often 
there was enough left from Grown-ups’ parties to 
allow the children to have one the next day. 
Invitations were then issued in the morning 
before school took in, and in the afternoon the 
children came back to their studies with their 
best clothes on, all ready to repair to the house 


FETCHING THE SPOONS 


133 


of feasting directly school was over. To-day 
Lucy oifered to let Rachel hold her muff, which 
was very civil in Lucy, because when she got it 
at Christmas, and walked out of Sunday-school 
the Sunday next after, carrying it with just 
pride, the muffless Rachel had called after her, 
spitefully, “ Cat fur ! cat fur ! ” 

On Monday, not only Mary Baily and Tutu, but 
the Doctor’s Wife also, retired to the kitchen. It 
was the old story of getting ready for the Con- 
gressman over again, only on a much larger scale. 
Hams were boiled, chickens were boiled, turkeys 
were roasted. The Aunts were to make the 
lemon jelly and the cocoanut cakes, but all the 
other cakes were to be made at home — five 
kinds. 

When cake is made, a great deal of good-tast- 
ing stuff sticks to egg whips, and spoons, and to 
the sides of bowls, — sweet dough, custard, frost- 
ing, jelly, and chocolate. Remembering this, 
both Dick and Rachel offered to stay at home and 
help, but as they were not allowed. Daffy scraped 
all the good sticking stuff and arranged it 
along the edges of a plate. She hardly took a 
lick herself, but saved all the delicacies conscien- 
tiously until her elders could have a share. 


134 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Daffy was a good little girl. She loved sweet 
things ; but she loved Rachel, and oh, with all 
her faithful little heart, she loved Dick. 

Mary Baily was good too. She saved out 
enough batter to make four little saucer cakes. 
The children could divide them with their little 
cousins, and with Sophy Jane and Jimmy. 

All the cakes were done by the time school 
was out. The Cousins came home with the 
children, so did Sophy Jane and Jim. They all 
walked up to the cold spare-room where the 
cakes were. An old table-cloth had been spread 
over the bureau, and the loaves stood there in a 
row. Tears almost came into Jimmy’s eyes. 

“ I wish I could stay all night,” he said, fer- 
vently. 

“ You’d have to sleep with Dick if you did,” 
said Rachel, discouragingly. “Tutu locks this 
room up tight, — when there’s cake.” 

Sophy Jane had a married sister. 

“We didn’t have as many as that for Sister’s 
wedding,” she said, impressed. 

As they descended the stairway, Rachel ex- 
plained that there were more at the Aunts’, — Co- 
coanut. Sophy Jane thought it more than likely 
that enough would be left over to warrant a 


FETCHING THE SPOONS 


135 


children’s party. However, she was safe, as 
both she and Jimmy as well as the Cousins were 
asked to come and help. Children always an- 
swered the party-bell, showed the ladies to the 
hostess’ chamber, and the gentlemen to the 
spare-room upstairs. 

On Wednesday there was no regular dinner, 
only a picked-up one. The Doctor went to see 
a sick man in the country, and would stop at 
Linwood for his dinner. Grandpa never went 
to evening parties ; but Grandma was coming in 
to stay all night. 

Rachel carried a note to school. It was 
pinned on with two pins, so she could not lose 
it. It was to the Lady Principal, to ask if the little 
girl might be allowed to stay at home that after- 
noon. The Lady Principal was asked to the 
party, and so were several of the Teachers. One 
of them had her head gracefully draped with a 
gray barege veil all day, so that she need not take 
her hair out of crimping pins before night. 
Permission was, therefore, a foregone conclusion. 

Everybody had their « bite ” in the kitchen. 
The dining room was to be used as an extra 
parlor. On a side table, however, plates and 
napkins were piled up, and trays of forks and 


136 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


spoons. It takes a great many for more than 
ninety people to eat with. Supper was to be 
passed to people wherever they might chance 
to be when quarter-to-ten o’clock came. Plates 
and napkins first, and so on. 

“Now, Rachel,” said her mother, directly 
luncheon was over, “put on your wraps, and 
run up to the Old House, and ask Grandmother 
and the Aunts to send down as many spoons 
and forks as they can spare. Take this little 
satchel, and make haste, for I shall need you 
very much this afternoon.” 

Rachel wished to see her mother put the 
finishing touches to the parlor. It was a very 
pretty parlor indeed. A good many red gera- 
niums had been sent in, and Aunt Henrietta’s 
great silver candle branches fitted with wax 
candles stood on the piano. Tutu had fetched 
these in person. So the parlor looked very gay. 

“ Yes’m,” said Rachel. She hated going, but 
she went. 

On the way she met the Warrender girls. 
They had had measles, and although they were 
now well, they had not reentered school. Time 
hung rather heavily on their hands, and they 
were very glad to accept Rachel’s invitation to 


FETCHING THE SPOONS 


137 


go up to the Old House with her. They had 
been looking for a long gutter on which to 
skate, and had their skates hanging to their 
shoulders in case they found one. When they 
got to the Old House, they said they would not 
go in. There was a nice gutter there, not long 
enough for skating, but quite long enough for 
sliding, so they would slide and keep warm 
while Rachel went in. 

The Aunties had all the spoons and forks tied 
up by half-dozens, and the half-dozens were 
rolled in tissue paper. They put them in the 
satchel and snapped the lock. 

“ Be careful, Rachel,” warned the Eldest Aunt. 

“ Oh, poor little thing 1 ” cried the Middle 
Aunt. “ I should think she would be so tired 
of being told to be careful.” 

“ She would not hear it so often if it were not 
necessary,” said the other, darkly. “ Rachel is 
very careless.” 

However, this time Rachel would remember 
to be careful. 

She went out into the street. The Warrenders 
were at the gate. They had made a discovery. 

There was a gentle slope behind the Old House; 
and while the hollow at its foot was not marshy 


138 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


in Summer, it was partly filled by Fall rains 
and Winter snows, and formed a very respectable 
little pond. Now it was frozen over, and had 
been swept by the boys, marks of whose skates 
shone on the black ice. The Warrenders said 
the ice w^as splendid ; wouldn’t Rachel like to go 
down and look at it ? 

So they went down. The black, smooth ice 
was very tempting. The Warrenders sat down 
on the snow and buckled on their skates. Then 
they stood up, holding fast to Rachel’s arm, and 
after balancing themselves, and squealing a little 
from fright, they slid off over the pond. 

« Let me try,” begged Rachel. 

No ; the Warrenders preferred to use their own 
skates. They had not been trained to think of 
others. 

Rachel ached with cold ; she ached with envy. 
The Warrenders slid about rapturously. They 
could not skate very well. It seemed unfair 
that those clumsy children, who at best could 
only make strokes enough to justify a slide, and 
who fell down so much, should have skates; 
while Rachel, who was like a gull for fieetness 
when the steels were strapped to her feet, should 
stand in the snow, shivering and miserable. 


FETCHING THE SPOONS 


139 


Suddenly she remembered that Paul kept his 
skates in the woodshed. 

“ Wait a minute,” she called to the Warren- 
ders, and off she ran. 

Yes ; the skates were there, and by great good 
fortune she had on, under her little arctic over- 
shoes, her boots that had bored heels. She hung 
the satchel with the spoons in it on the nail 
where the skates had dangled, and she forged 
forth clumsily over the snow. It is hard to walk 
with skates on. 

Once on the ice, Rachel was a new creature. 
She darted, she whirled, she balanced, she flew. 
Her cheeks glowed, her little body swayed, 
her arms waved. The Warrenders fell down 
several times in trying to keep her plaid skirt in 
view. Rachel never fell. 

It had been two o’clock when she left home ; 
now it was nearly four, and nights close in early 
in the North. It was not a sunny day at best. 

At one side of the hollow, blackberry bushes 
grew. They belonged on Grandfather’s lower 
lot, and bore a fine crop of berries in Summer- 
time. Everybody said it was because the water 
stood about the brambles in Winter. Per- 
haps the strong canes carried some latent heat 


140 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


within their purple bark ; as, for some reason, 
the ice about them was very thin. Rachel did 
not know this ; but it somehow happened that it 
was nearly four o’clock before she thought of 
exploring that part of the hollow where a light 
snow lay and where the blackberries grew. 

The ice cracked. It did not creak first as 
good ice would have done ; it simply broke into 
a hole, and let Rachel down into the water. 

The pond was very shallow, and as she caught 
at a berry cane in falling, she did not fall in far. 
Only up to her waist. The Warrenders began 
to cry. They pulled off their skates and ran 
home. 

Rachel had no idea of crying. She broke her 
way to a thicker ice layer ; then she lunged 
forward on her stomach and quickly crawled to 
a place of safety, and started across the lower 
lot toward the Old House. She was very cold 
and a good deal frightened now all danger was 
over. 

She opened the kitchen door and clumped 
across to the stove ; no one was in the kitchen, 
but in the living-room the ladies heard a peculiar 
noise, and came out to see what it meant. 

Rachel now began to cry, and the Aunties, 


FETCHING THE SPOONS 


141 


with all haste, pulled off her wet clothing, un- 
buckled the skates, and carried her wrapped in 
warm shawls to the living-room fire. Her flesh 
was almost black it was so red, and she wailed 
miserably, with her face against Grandmother’s 
shoulder. 

“ There, there ! ” soothed Grandmother. 

Clothes of Molly’s were soon produced, thick 
stockings and petticoats and things, and shoes 
out of Paul’s closet. The clothes were a little 
small, and the shoes were over-large, but they 
were dry. One of the Aunties gave her a dose 
out of a teaspoon, and a mug of hot milk. 
Rachel then felt herself ready to face the world 
again. 

“ I must go now,” she said. Thank you very 
much, indeed. I’ll bring Molly’s things back to- 
morrow and get mine. They’ll be dry by then. 
Now I must go home with the spoons.” 

“ The sjpoons ! ” the Aunties lifted their hands 
in horror. “ Didn’t you take them down long 
hours ago ? ” 

« N — n — no’m. I was skating on the pond. 
They’re all right. I left them hanging on a nail 
in the woodshed.” 

Yes; the spoons were safe. Rachel showed 


142 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


the satchel to the ladies before she started. It 
was getting dark. The Old Orchard lay before 
her, a gloomy waste. Who could tell what sort 
of ’Fraid Things might lurk behind the trees ? A 
wind had come up, and the boughs creaked omi- 
nously. It was time for earnest prayer and for 
swift running. 

Rachel both prayed and ran, and nothing hap- 
pened. Something did happen, however, when 
she opened the front door at home, and, arrayed 
in clothes not her own and a year too small, she 
offered the satchel to Tutu. 

“Would you object to telling where you’ve 
been since two o’clock ? ” asked Tutu, with icy 
politeness ; “ or to say how your clothes came to 
shrink up above your knees? Perhaps that is 
a new party dress.” 

“ I do not think she will need a party dress 
to-night,” said her mother, sadly. “ Little girls 
who run away cannot expect to enjoy parties. 
I think, my dear, I can read the story of this 
afternoon in your face. You have been skating 
somewhere, and you fell in, and had to go to the 
Aunties to be dried and warmed. I am glad, 
indeed, that nothing worse happened to you ; and 
I am glad Grandmother’s silver is safe. Does 


FETCHING THE SPOONS 


143 


my little girl like to think of what might have 
happened to the things trusted to her? No, 
Rachel, there is no help for it. You must go to 
bed.” 

At quarter to eight Rachel could hear Sophy 
Jane and Jimmy and Paul and Molly talking to 
Dick downstairs. At eight o’clock the first ring- 
ing of the bell occurred, and then it rang in 
quick succession until almost all of the ninety 
people bidden to the party had arrived. How 
pleasant it must be downstairs, where all the 
talking and laughing was going on ! Rachel could 
imagine the lights in the lamps, in the candlesticks, 
and in the great silver candelabra. She could 
picture to herself the pretty dresses of the ladies. 
The men, she knew, had on the coats they wore 
to Church on Sunday, so there was no need to 
waste time thinking about them ; but had Miss 
Emily worn her pink silk gown, and had Cousin 
Josephine her pearl earrings on ? Oh, how she 
wanted to know ! Cousin Josephine was a bride ; 
what if she should have worn her wedding dress ! 

Somebody played on the piano, “ Listen to the 
Mocking-bird,” and a long piece with a great 
many trills and runs. Then Miss Emily sang. 
People who had heard Jenny Lind sing, said 


144 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


that her voice was no more beautiful than Miss 
Emily’s. It was, indeed, hardly possible for a 
voice to be more pure and sweet, or to carry 
more of that nameless something for which we 
have no better word than charm. Then a young 
man with a bass voice sang. It almost made 
one’s flesh creep to hear how very deep his tones 
could go. Then the Minister’s Wife sang a very 
pretty song, and then everybody sang together 
three or four songs, — « Annie Laurie,” “ Bonny 
Doon,” and so on, while she played the accom- 
paniments. It was a very agreeable party. 

Rachel began to smell coffee. Tutu never 
made the coffee until the minute it was needed. 
Yes, the music had stopped, and no doubt supper 
was beginning. 

Rachel buried her face in the pillow. If only 
God would make her be a better girl, and not 
let Satan tempt her to neglect her duty again ! 
Satan was so big and strong, and she was only 
a little girl, and it was mean of him to make 
her lose the party. It was mean in herself, she 
owned, honestly. Nobody made her go to skate. 
It had been her own idea; still, it was very 
hard, and she was very miserable. 

Merry voices floated up from below, and 


FETCHING THE SPOONS 


145 


sounds of spoons and cups and glasses. Rachel 
fancied that she could smell things — even 
cocoanut cake. It seemed as if a year had 
passed since she was banished to the chilly 
upper room. Then she heard Dick whisper : — 
“ Tutu said you couldn’t have any supper ; 
but here’s a plate with half of mine on it. I 
divided even. There’s going to be lots left over.” 
Rachel sat up and dried her now radiant eyes. 
“You’re the very best boy in all the world,” 
she said. 


CHAPTER IX 


0 Cljaptet ot Calamttiefi? 

One of the many pleasant things about the 
Village was the freedom with which people fol- 
lowed their fancies. Mrs. Grundy, it is true, had 
her part to play in the regulation of the general 
tone of Society, and a few persons who acted as 
private detectives kept watch and ward over the 
general welfare of the community; but a very 
wide latitude was permitted in the following of 
individual tastes. If it were either convenient 
or necessary that a family drive about in a 
chariot so old that long before the horse draw- 
ing it came into view the rattling of the bones 
of the ancient vehicle announced its coming ; or 
if it were thought best to postpone the painting 
of the family residence until it had weathered to 
a silvery gray, nobody commented or criticised. 
So, too, people kept cows or dogs, or hens, or 
geese or ducks, as pleased them or not, and as 
everybody’s garden was guarded by a good fence, 
146 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 147 


nobody disapproved of the live stock. Pigs were 
distinctly frowned upon ; but no veracious chroni- 
cler would venture to state that so far as the 
Village was concerned, pigs were extinct animals. 
They did their grunting behind bars, if they did 
it at all, and there was supposed to be a Con- 
stable (whom nobody ever saw), who would 
drive an errant pig to a Pound (which nobody 
ever saw, either) if he found one straying about. 
With geese and ducks it was different, for what 
with either the Camp-pond, or the Gypsy-pond, 
or the Muckshaw, or Clear Lake, within easy dis- 
tance of half of the Village houses, it would 
have been a waste of privilege not to own a 
flock of the fowls so beautiful afloat, so ridicu- 
lous ashore. 

After much consideration at Oak House it 
was decided to have ducks. They could be kept 
in the hen yard when they came home at night, 
and would add a pleasing variety to that part of 
the premises. At first the Doctor objected, even 
going so far as to make a pun about not liking to 
hear himself called a quack every time he walked 
in the garden ; but as Tutu and the children 
had set their hearts in that direction, he wisely 
gave in. To two trustworthy hens there were 


148 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


intrusted, therefore, two large “sittings’’ of green- 
ish, oily -looking eyes, and the waiting period began. 

It took a long time for the eggs to hatch out, — 
ages. The boys, at the risk of their lives, ousted 
the clamorous hens many times each day to look 
at the eggs, which looked always just the same, 
although days and even weeks lagged by. Tutu, 
you may be sure, did not know of this. It would 
have made her very angry to know that her hens 
were being disturbed. The ducks were to be 
hers. Part of the forthcoming broods she in- 
tended to serve on the family table, but the 
greater number of the fowls were to be sold for 
the benefit of Foreign Missions. She loved For- 
eign Missions, and she would gladly take any 
pains to further their interests. 

The children were not especially excited on the 
subject of Foreign Missions, but they were wild 
for the eggs to be hatched ; and when Tutu was 
forced to go back to Canada to see her sister 
who was ill, they were greatly distressed lest the 
hens put off hatching out until her return. 

Rachel hurt her foot. It was not a dangerous 
hurt, but the Doctor said that she must stay in 
bed. She would be safe there, and she would 
be sure not to be safe elsewhere. So he bade 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 149 


her content herself with bed until he gave her 
permission to get up. Take it all in all, she had 
a very pleasant time. Sophy Jane and Molly 
came to see her every day, and both of the 
Grandmothers, and almost all the Aunts, — plain 
Aunts and Grand-aunts, — sent all sorts of good 
things to eat, so that she was able to entertain 
her visitors in fine style. All of her favorite 
books were arranged on a table beside the little 
cot which had been placed for her in her mother’s 
chamber ; and when different ladies sent her cro- 
cuses or daffodils and other Spring flowers, these 
were put beside the books. Dick read aloud to 
her in Captain Bonneville s Adventures ^ and al- 
though she felt herself too old for dolls, she 
spent a great many agreeable hours with Daffy’s 
paper children. If one must have dolls, paper 
ones are best — the kind made out of writing 
paper, painted with water colors, and cut out 
with scissors. If one gets torn, a dozen can 
easily be made to take its place. The dolls 
were called Grices, after a family of real chil- 
dren who came to Sunday-school. There were, 
however, many more paper Grices than real 
ones. It seemed as if Daffy could never have 
enough Grices. 


150 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Dick came in, jubilant. The duck eggs were 
hatched. Oh, my ! but they were funny-looking. 
Rachel would die of laughing if she could see 
their solemn-looking little faces and their funny 
bills. As for their feet, they were the most 
wonderful feet any one could imagine. Exactly 
like a real duck’s foot. 

Rachel began to cry. She begged to be al- 
lowed to hop out on one foot to the barn, just 
long enough to see the ducks ; but, no ; the Doc- 
tor was firm in his opposition to any hopping 
whatever, and poor Rachel was forced to content 
herself with the recitals of others concerning the 
perfections of the ducks. It was very hard. 

The next day was Mary Daily’s Saturday out, 
and the Doctor’s Wife was reading aloud out of 
one of the little volumes of Hans Andersen’s 
stories. She had to be very careful not to do 
any skipping. The little girls knew exactly 
what came next to everything, and so the story 
could not be shortened. It would have been a 
pity to shorten it, since every word written by 
the dear old Dane was filled with the highest 
truth, and the gentle spirit that wove the deli- 
cate fancies was that of one whose angel did 
always behold the face of the Father. The Doc- 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 151 


tor’s Wife loved him almost as much as the chih 
dren did ; but sometimes she felt that it would be 
agreeable to do a little skipping. She had fin- 
ished the history of The Ugly Duckling — chosen 
in honor of the new arrivals — and had begun 
to read about The Twelve Wild Swa/ns ; but the 
story was doomed to be left unfinished that day, 
for Paul came down from the Old House, to say 
that Grandmother felt very unwell, and would 
the Doctor and Aunt Kitty please go up at once. 

The Doctor was out on his rounds, and would 
not be back before five o’clock. Mrs. Doctor felt 
that she could not wait so long before knowing 
what ailed Grandmother ; and as there was noth- 
ing in Rachel’s condition in the least degree 
alarming, she decided to go up to the Old House 
at once, leaving word for the Doctor to follow 
her directly he returned, when she would drive 
down with him. She put the house in Dick’s 
hands, and gave him strict charges to keep 
Rachel from exerting herself. Rachel also prom- 
ised to be good and quiet, and, with her paint 
box, her scissors, and plenty of paper, there was 
no reason why she should not spend the after- 
noon very contentedly making Grices. 

Dick and Paul repaired at once to the stable. 


152 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


where the nests were placed, and where the 
hens were clucking anxiously at their strange 
fledglings. The two old creatures seemed to 
be consulting together, as human mothers might 
do, over some juvenile maladies which were 
beyond their ken. On previous Summers both 
had reared broods of the dearest, downiest little 
yellow chicks, which had proved a credit to their 
up-bringing ; and although hens may not have 
the longest memories in the world, they knew 
well enough that those darlings had neither the 
feet nor the bills of these little troublesome fowls, 
nor had their speech such a peculiar accent. 

The hens were resolved to do their duty, how- 
ever, and resented the frequent appearance of 
the excited children, who demoralized the duck- 
lings sadly by their proffers of affection. They 
now set up a great to-do, and spread their wings 
in a threatening manner. 

The boys stood with their hands in their 
trousers pockets and discussed the ducks. By 
reason of living near a pond much frequented by 
their kindred, Paul felt that his opinions were 
of value. 

“ Have they been in swimming yet ? ” he 
asked. 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 153 


<< No ; I should say not. They’re too little.” 

Indeed they are not, then. Ducks can swim 
as soon as they are born. They look awful 
funny paddling about.” 

Yes ; it must be funny, and Dick would like 
to see them swim ; but he did not think his 
mother would like him to carry the ducks as far 
as the Muckshaw, and besides he could not leave 
Rachel. 

“ Hasn’t Rachel seen them yet ? ” 

No ; but she was crazy to do so. 

Ducks can’t learn to swim, if they are not 
taken to water,” observed Paul. << And who 
would have old land ducks ? Might as well 
have chickens to begin with, if they’ve got to 
peck and cluck about a barn floor all their lives. 
They’ve got to begin early, or maybe the hens’ll 
teach them hen ways, and then they’ll be no 
good at all. I say, let’s take them into Rachel’s 
room and teach them to swim this afternoon.” 

‘‘ How ? ” asked Dick, slowly. 

“ How ! In a tub, boy. We can carry in a 
tub and fill it with water afterward, and then 
we’ll take the little ducks and plump them in. 
It will be great fun, and it will be grand for 
Rachel.” 


154 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Rachel put the Grices by directly the new 
sport was proposed. She could hardly wait 
until the boys brought in the tub, and it seemed 
as if they simply never would get it full of 
water. It was put close beside the cot on which 
Rachel was propped up with pillows, so that she 
could have the best possible view. The carpet 
was quite wet before the tub was full enough. 
Daffy took the towels from the rack and tried to 
sop up the spilled water. She only got herself 
wet, and spoiled the towels — Daffy was too little 
to sop. 

Then the boys went to the stable again. 
They were gone a long time. One boy kept the 
hens at bay, while the other darted about after 
the ducklings. The little things were very 
nimble, and it seemed as if they would never all 
be caught. At last all were in the basket. The 
hens were extremely displeased, and expressed 
themselves with vigor. If they had been real 
mothers instead of step-mothers, they could not 
have taken the conduct of the boys more to 
heart. 

Oh, do let me have the basket ! ” screamed 
Rachel, as the boys came into her room. “ Oh, 
the lovely things ! Oh, boys, did you ever see 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 156 


such beauties ? Oh, Daffy, you never let on how 
perfect they were ! ” 

The all-yellow one is mine,” said Daffy ; 
<< the one with the little black parting to its 
hair. Tutu said we could each have one for our 
own. Mine is named Henrietta.” 

“ Oh, did she truly ? Then Pm going to 
have this one with a black head. Oh, you dear 
love ! You’re going to be the sweetest duck 
ever seen, with a curly tail, and green on your 
wings and your head. Perhaps you’ll turn into a 
swan. I should not be in the least surprised if you 
do. Your name is Prince Charming, beauty, and 
nobody is ever going to eat you as long as you live.” 

Prince Charming seemed glad to hear that, 
and cuddled down by Rachel’s chin in a very 
contented way. The whole cot was overrun with 
little ducks, squeaking and quacking. 

The boys were eager to have the swimming 
begin, and there was now more darting and 
clutching on their part. It was a wonder the 
birds did not die of the suffocation or the 
bruises they were obliged to endure before they 
were dropped, one by one, into the tub of pure 
water, fresh from the northwest corner of the 
coldest well in town. 


156 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


It was a far greater wonder to see them 
swim. Directly they touched the water, the 
little paddles began working, and the little 
bodies floated about like steam-tugs in a harbor, 
busily and ceaselessly. The children hung over 
the tub in an agony of delight. It was a joy 
that could not be sated, and nothing could 
exceed the agility of the performing ducks. 

« Henrietta’s got to come out,” said Daffy. 
« I want to hold her ; and besides, I know she’s 
tired.” 

“ Tired ! ” the boys jeered ; « they like it the 
best kind, all of them. Ducks stay in for hours 
and hours, and dive about like anything.” 

‘‘These fellows haven’t dived a time,” said 
Paul. “ I told you those old hens were no 
good. What do they know ? It’s lucky for the 
ducks that I came down to-day.” 

“I should think they ought to be able to 
dive,” Dick meditated. “ If you hold one under 
water for a minute, he’ll And how nice it is, 
and then they’ll all want to dive. Perhaps the 
reason they haven’t tried is because they have 
nothing to dive for.” 

One was held under, and then another; but 
there seemed to be no incentive to further 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 157 

divings, either on their part or that of their 
mates. 

“ I tell you they have nothing to dive for,” 
insisted Dick. “Real ducks are always after 
something to eat, down in the bottom of the pond, 
— Polliwogs and things, — and they’re lucky 
if a snapping-turtle does not get them when 
they do it. You go out and get some corn.” 

The corn was procured, and shone, yellow and 
bright, in the little shifting spaces between the 
swiftly paddling ducks, who took no notice of 
it. It might as well have been a handful of 
pebbles for all they cared. 

“ Hold another under, Paul.” 

“ Not Prince Charming,” shrieked Rachel. “ I 
do not wish him to be a diving duck, and he 
shall not be taught. A snapping-turtle might 
get him. He shall not be taught.” 

“ Give me my Henrietta,” demanded Daffy. 
“She is too little to eat corn, and she wants 
this lump of sugar. Come, Henrietta ! ” 

Henrietta was at the farther side of the tub, 
and, besides being too little to eat corn, had not 
yet learned to understand English. It would 
have been too much to expect of a duck not two 
days old that it understand English as well as 


158 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 

the duck-and-hen languages. So she did not 
come. 

Daffy leaned a little too far, and into the water 
she fell, heels over head. 

Rachel shrieked again ; but before Daffy knew 
she was in, she was out again, wet and frightened. 
Then she began to howl. 

“ Oh, hush, for mercy’s sake. Daffy ! ” said 
Dick, who began to look forward instead of 
backward. Hush, Daify ! Rachel, can’t you 
crawl out far enough to unbutton her back ? 
Let her put on her nightgown and get into bed 
with you till somebody comes to dress her. I 
can’t. What do boys know about a girl’s non- 
sensical buttons and strings? Get into bed, 
Daffy, like a good little girl, and I’ll catch 
Henrietta, and you can play with her up there. 
Four o’clock ! Paul, maybe the ducks have had 
paddling enough.” 

The hens expressed themselves loudly and in 
great displeasure when their charges were re- 
turned to them. They were so busy trying to 
hover the poor little things that they did not 
peck at the boys, as they had done earlier in 
the day ; although if the truth be told, they were 
now much more peckworthy, and the long 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 159 


patience and many cares of the good old hens 
were quite wasted because of their folly. 

Paul came down the next day to see the ducks 
paddle again, but there was no paddling, and for 
the ducks there had been no next day. In spite 
of all that the Doctor and his Wife and Mary 
Baily and the hens could do, not one of the 
little creatures survived the cold water and the 
exercise prescribed by their friends. Twenty- 
one little brown and yellow corpses lay on the 
stable floor, and all — except Henrietta, whose 
body had been rescued by the weeping Daffy — 
found a common grave under the currant bushes. 

The Doctor had his own way of teaching 
honor. He watched the boys levelling down 
the soil after their sad task was ended. 

“ They were not your ducks, you know,” he 
said. “ Tutu had bought the eggs, and you know 
what she had planned to do with the duck 
money.” 

Then he went on into his office. 

Dick thought for a moment. 

« There’s only one thing to do,” he said. “ If 
those old hens will sit again, we’ve got to give 
them some more ducks’ eggs, and let them hatch 
out two more broods. They only had the ducks 


160 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


two days, so maybe they’ll forget that they had 
them at all, and will be willing to sit again. 
I’m going out to the Addition now to see if I 
can buy more eggs.” 

“ I shall pay for half,” said Paul ; “ I was 
the one that proposed the game. I have ten 
cents in my pocket this minute. Yesterday 
was Pay-day.” 

That cheered Dick not a little. He also had 
ten cents left over from Pay-day ; and as Rachel 
had had several presents of pennies since her 
accident, and was wild to possess another Prince 
Charming, she added five cents to the store. 
Ducks’ eggs were a penny apiece, and Rachel 
thought there would be four cents left over 
after twenty-one ducks’ eggs were purchased in 
hope of replacing the twenty-one martyrs, and 
proposed that the boys spend this sum for mint- 
sticks. Dick said no; twenty-five eggs should 
be bought, as some might not hatch out into 
ducks, and they owed Tutu twenty-one ducks. 

Daffy held her duckling to her breast. She 
was sure it would have grown to be a hand- 
some duck. Its black hair-parting would have 
given it a most distinguished appearance. She 
could not be consoled. 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 161 


Molly and Betty now came down, bringing 
Rachel some marmalade — enough marmalade, 
indeed, to spread on six slices of buttered 
bread. Mary Baily soon prepared the bread, 
and the thick marmalade was plastered on by 
Molly herself. The boys started off happily, 
carrying an empty basket between them, and 
munching the treat as they walked along. 

Daffy and Betty went out into the garden. 
They did not feel much like playing, with the 
dead duckling pressed, limp and cold, to 
Daffy’s sad little heart. They walked about 
and looked at the Spring flowers in the borders, 
— hyacinths and jonquils, dwarf iris and crim- 
son-spotted cowslips. Each child had its own 
flower-bed. In Dick’s stood the monument of 
a rabbit he had loved and lost long since. A 
Stonecutter, with whom he was on good terms, 
had made the nice little tombstone. He had 
cut “ Our Rabbit ” on it in large letters. 
The rabbit had really been Dick’s private 
property, and he could have had the Stone- 
cutter put on My ” with perfect propriety ; but 
this would have excluded the little sisters, who 
had loved the rabbit tenderly, and mourned for 
him sincerely, from a seeming share in the 


162 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


monument, and this Dick did not wish to do. 
When Betty saw the tombstone, she had an 
idea. 

“Let’s have a funeral for Henrietta.” 

“Rachel’s sick,” objected Daffy, who could 
imagine no pleasure without her sister’s presence. 

“Well, what of it? We needn’t have a big 
funeral. It’s only for a small duck, and you 
and I will do very well by ourselves. I’m 
tired of being ordered about by those big girls.” 

Betty spied a trowel and fell to digging. 

Daffy became interested. 

“Mother said we might pick one of every 
kind of flower,” she said. “ We can make Henri- 
etta a nice little bed of hyacinths, and cover 
her up with cowslips.” 

So they might. 

“We’ve got to sing and pray,” said Betty. 
“ I would not feel as if we’d done the right 
thing by Henrietta if we didn’t.” 

Yes ; they must sing and pray, and say a 
Verse. They began to think of the hymns 
they knew, and as she thought. Daffy’s hand 
went into her apron pocket. It was nearly 
filled with Grices. She stood them up in a 
row against a brick near the grave. It seemed 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 168 


to make Henrietta’s funeral more important, 
having so many spectators. The Grices did 
not seem at all sorry, but that was because 
Rachel had painted all their mouths in the 
shape of a smile. It was not the fault of the 
Grices that they looked so cheerful. 

‘<Do you know the song about the moun- 
tain, Betty ? Rachel likes that one best of 
all our songs.” 

Yes ; Betty knew it, so they sang : — 

Like the mist on the mountain, 

Like the foam on the sea, 

So short shall the days of our pilgrimage be.” 

Then Daffy said her Verse. Perhaps she did 
not quote her Author quite correctly, but she 
left out none of His spirit when she said : — 

“Suffer little birdies to come unto Me, and 
forbid them not, for there is room for them in 
the Kingdom of Heaven.” 

The little maids knelt down and said, 
“Now I lay me,” and then the little duckling 
was left to the wonderful and beautiful pro- 
cesses, by which, having had its little day, it 
passed to new uses. 

Daffy’s was a faithful little heart. The fresh 
sittings of eggs were duly hatched out by the 


164 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


forgiving hens, and grew into handsome ma- 
turity before frost came ; but none took the 
place of the departed Henrietta. 

“ No,” said Dalfy, in answer to Tutu’s prof- 
fered gift. “ I am not going to love any more 
ducks.” 

She had on that account all the more affec- 
tion to bestow upon the puppy, which was 
presented by the little girls at the Last Farm, 
and it was on account of this pet, that the 
Doctor’s Wife said she all but lost her religion. 
No one can think her blameworthy after he 
hears what happened. 

The puppy was named Harry, and before 
Winter had grown to be a fine large dog. He 
had no beauty except a pair of great loving 
eyes, but he was as honest as it is possible 
for a dog to be, and he would not let a cow 
come anywhere near his charges. The little 
girls were not afraid to go anywhere wnth 
Harry along to protect them, and as he was 
always more than ready to accompany them, 
they went to many places they had hitherto 
thought unsafe. It was very good of Harry to 
give up his own plans to suit those of the 
children, for he was a very busy dog. Besides 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 165 


harrying all the cows who wished to do a little 
foraging in his end of the Village, and chasing 
all the ducks except Tutu’s ducks, he policed 
the street in front of Oak House so that no 
other dogs ventured to loiter about there. In a 
very short while no dogs even passed that way, 
Harry was so uncivil to them. If they had any 
errands down town, they went by a back street. 

As for the country dogs, they almost gave up 
coming to town at all. They had been in the 
habit of trotting in under their masters’ wagons, 
now and then, and seeing a little life in that 
way. It was a diversion from the monotony of 
farm life. After they became acquainted with 
Harry, they decided that they did not care to see 
life, if the price to be paid was a fight with 
Harry, in which they were sure to be worsted ; 
and so, when the wagons loaded with wheat or 
corn or hay turned toward the Village, the farm 
dogs had pressing business elsewhere, and the 
horses went on alone. 

The boys admired Harry immensely. They 
would have given anything if he had been their 
dog, and they offered Daffy everything they could 
think of if she would give him up. She was 
firm in her refusals ; and so, although the boys 


166 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


had him about with them whenever they liked, 
the real ownership was vested in Daffy. 

A very ugly brindled dog came to town one 
day, a bull-dog. Harry rushed out to attack 
him, with all the courage in the world, but for 
once he had mistaken his foe. The fight was in 
front of the Blacksmith’s shop, and was so excit- 
ing that all the workmen came out to look at it. 
The Farmer who owned the bull-dog stopped his 
horses, and sat in the wagon enjoying the sport. 
In spite of the encouragement of Harry’s friends, 
the Blacksmiths, the bull-dog won the fight, and 
poor Harry went home with a badly damaged 
ear. 

The ear healed, but it was constantly being 
hurt again. Harry had continual hallucinations 
on the subject of fleas, and every time he 
scratched his ear, he fairly howled with the pain 
of the freshly wounded flesh. 

It was Sacrament Sunday, and it was very 
cold. Deep snow lay everywhere. Mary Baily 
usually went to Early Mass on such occasions ; 
but on this day the drifts prevented, and she 
waited until later, when paths should have been 
cut. There would be a late dinner, for Tutu 
could not miss going to Church any more than 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 167 


could the Doctor or his wife. It was decided 
that Dick and Rachel were quite old enough to 
be left in charge of the house. Some one always 
had to stay to answer the bell, and to tell 
patients when the Doctor would be back, or 
where he might then be found if it were an 
emergency case. Daffy was to go to Church. 
It w'as felt that she would be safer there. 

The older children were much disappointed 
because they could not go. The Holy Supper 
was administered only three or four times a year, 
and they liked exceedingly to sit in one of the 
side pews and observe the rite. It was very 
solemn. The Minister prayed with more than 
usual fervor; the hymns were more than usually 
grave. There were few outward aids to faith 
in the plain House of God, and perhaps this 
made it all the more possible that one could 
almost see the bare, upper room in Jerusalem, 
and the little group of poor workingmen sitting 
at their simple evening meal, their faces lighted 
by the flare of a few oil lamps, and earnest and 
bewildered by the strange things one of their 
number was saying. He was a Carpenter, and 
they were nearly all of them Fishermen. One 
could almost hear the beautiful, tender Voice 


168 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


blessing that first loaf of consecrated Bread, and 
filling with Wine that first Cup of Remem- 
brance ; and one longed to be found worthy at 
the last to sit down at the Marriage-feast of the 
Lamb. 

The men sat, with gravely bowed heads. The 
women dropped their veils, and many of them 
wept softly thinking of loved ones who had 
“ gone away.” The Elder of the Church walked 
slowly and reverently up and down the aisles, 
passing the Elements. Each head was bent, as 
the mystical symbols were received. It was a 
pure and true worship, and was, without doubt, 
accepted by the Searcher of Hearts. 

The family had not been long gone. The bells 
had just ceased tolling. The children were look- 
ing out of the windows, choosing horses, as the 
country people drove by. The game was to cry 
out ‘‘ I choose ! ” when a horse was heard com- 
ing. The one who cried out first made believe 
to own the horse. If it turned out to be a fine, 
high-spirited animal, one was in luck ; but if it 
were a clumsy work-horse, with a thick winter 
coat of ungtoomed hair, one was jeered at and 
ashamed. It was a very good game, but it was 
not exactly a Sunday game. Perhaps it was not 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 169 


really wicked, since all the horses were on their 
way to Church. 

Harry was asleep by the kitchen fire. He had 
a bad dream about fieas, and immediately began 
to scratch his head. Then he gave a loud howl. 
The ragged scrap of flesh hung almost free from 
his ear. 

Dick and Rachel ran to comfort him, but still 
Harry howled. 

After an examination of the injury, Dick 
spoke firmly : — 

“ There is only one thing to do, and that is cut 
off the bad part, and there will never be a better 
time than this to do it.” 

«« Daffy won’t let us.” 

“ That’s just it. Every time Harry hurts 
himself. Daffy cries; and now we’ll just do it, 
and everything’ll be all right when she gets home.” 

‘‘ It’s Sunday,” objected Rachel. 

Don’t Father do things for people on Sun- 
day, I’d like to know ? ” 

“You’re not Father.” 

Dick helped himself to the scissors in Tutu’s 
basket. 

“ Never mind. All you have to do is to leave 
the kitchen.” 


170 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


This Rachel willingly did. She was a great 
coward, and she hated pain. 

“Don’t hurt him,” she called over her shoul- 
der. Then she put a finger into each ear, and 
looked at the clock. 

“ He can’t howl for more than five minutes,” 
she reasoned ; “I wouldn’t myself, for such a 
little piece of skin. I’ll keep corked up until 
five minutes are over.” 

When she took her fingers down, she heard 
Dick calling : — 

“ Why don’t you come ? I’m tired of scream- 
ing.” 

“ I didn’t hear you. I was all corked up.” 

“Well, come now.” 

Dick was pale enough to scare anybody. 

“ It hardly hurt him a bit,” he explained ; 
“but I never saw so much blood. We’ve got 
to stop it. Do you know how ? ” 

Rachel considered. 

“ When I had toothache. Tutu tied on a piece 
of fat bacon,” she said. “ Teeth and ears are 
both part of your head, so I suppose that would 
be the best thing.” 

There was plenty of bacon in the pantry ; 
string also. Rachel returned with both. Harry 


A CHAPTER OF CALAMITIES 171 


did not seem to mind it at all. He was accus- 
tomed to the sight of gore, but it was usually 
the gore of others. He seemed to think there 
had been a fight ; and as there was no other 
dog about, it was probably demolished. He 
was in a very pleasant frame of mind. 

“Tie on the bacon, Rachel, while I hold his 
head.” 

If one has never tried to perform such a task, 
one has no ideas of its difficulty. Harry was 
patience itself. He allowed Rachel to try at 
least twenty different ways, but none of them 
succeeded. 

Rachel then* held Harry by the collar, and 
Dick tried another twenty ways, with no other 
result than the ruin of his Sunday linen. 

Rachel was a sight ; so were the white parts 
of Harry’s coat; so were the towels; so was 
the floor. Dick was in terror. 

“ Let the dog go,” he commanded. “ I’m 
going to take him outside and hold snow to his 
ear. You’d better clean up. There won’t be 
much left of us, if Tutu sees all this mess. Do 
make haste.” 

Rachel made haste. She spilled water over 
everything, and dragged the mop and broom 


172 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


about with vigor. She vrorked very hard, but 
the harder she worked the worse things grew. 

Dick came in ; the snow, or the cold, or what 
not, had stanched the flow, and Harry was him- 
self again. 

‘‘ Do you call that cleaning ? ” he demanded. 
‘‘It’s worse by far than it was before. You’d 
better — ” 

The Doctor’s key was in the door. Harry 
bounded forward. Daffy gave a loud wail of 
anguish. The family hastened through the doors 
that had been left open. 

‘‘ I leave you to imagine my feelings,” said 
the Doctor’s Wife to Sophy Jane’s mother. I 
had been so lifted up by the worship, and had 
come away so comforted, so happy, so grateful, 
so full of love for everybody, and so resolved 
to carry my new heart into my old life, and 
that was what I found waiting for me. I nearly 
lost all the religion I ever had, I was so pro- 
voked, and yet I could not keep from laughter 
when that poor, dear Dick began to explain. 
< We wanted to cure Daffy’s dog,’ he said. ‘ We 
thought it would be such a pleasant surprise.’ ” 


CHAPTER X 


<♦310^0 tl)at toe'be ®a 0 teu*' 

There was, perhaps, never in the world a 
better place to be born in than was the Village. 
No sane child could have formed a wish the 
fulfilment of which was not ready to his hand. 
The cheerful and the changeful pages of the 
Seasons were here turned with a confidence born 
of knowledge that if one good went, another 
came ; if the joys of Winter were past, those of 
Spring were just as sweet. School, of course, 
was an ever present evil, and had to be endured 
for a certain period of each day; but it was 
reduced to its minimum capacity for inflicting 
injury by the many and great blessings of the 
hours of freedom, when the boys and girls turned 
to beautiful, bountiful old Mother Nature, and 
were comforted. 

About the Village there were woods and fields 
and marshes, there were ponds, crystal-clear, with 
islands lying on their fair bosoms, with sandy 


173 


174 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


cliffs where kingfishers and sand-swallows bored 
their nests, and with fish ready for every hook. 
Apparently, on purpose to suit the boys, bridges 
were built over the most convenient fishing 
places, and along the shady banks there were 
occasional fallen trees which made even better 
perches for a boy and a rod. Worms of most 
acceptable fatness for bait could be dug in 
almost everybody’s yard ; and from the time the 
first polliwog began to wiggle in the marshes, 
until the last muskrat retired to his domed house 
for the Winter, there was a constantly varying 
field of activity for the energy of the boys. 

At the foot of the street on which the Doctor’s 
alley opened, there was a pond to which Dick 
rode old Charley for water. This duty he not 
infrequently turned to profit by trading off so 
many rides on behind for things which other 
boys had to swap. They always said swap ” ; 
so even although it is not so elegant a word as 
barter, it would hardly be fair to the boys to 
leave it out, when speaking of their transactions. 
It took Dick four weeks’ worth of rides to pay 
the boy on the next corner for a pair of stilts, 
and long before the time was over, he had left 
off caring for stilts, so it seemed a little hard 


“JOYS THAT WE’VE TASTED” 176 


to be still compelled to pay for them in rides. 
He was an honest boy, however, and he paid 
every ride, and even gave the boy a nest of little 
red paper pill-boxes out of the Doctor’s drawer 
to boot. These pill-boxes were very desirable 
possessions, and the command of a limited num- 
ber of them gave Dick a valued prestige among 
his fellows. The children were not so fond of 
them when their mothers had sent for the Doc- 
tor professionally, and he had presented one 
filled with nasty-tasting little pellets, and had 
written on top : “For Jack. One after each 
meal.” 

At the side of the watering place between that 
and the strip of shore which was the boys’ swim- 
ming place, there was a great plantation of yel- 
low dock. Aristocratic water lilies floated, white 
and pure, in clearer, farther waters, things of 
beauty and of mystery, and types of much that 
the children would come to know later ; while the 
docks were frankly vulgar plants, and loved 
the thick, rich mud and rank odors near shore. 
Nobody ever desired a bouquet of their hard, yel- 
low, knobby flowers, but — it was dreadful, but 
it was true — almost all the boys liked the spat- 
ter-docks of the Muckshaw better than they did 


176 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


the lilies, and this for a reason which was dread- 
ful also — their stems were better to smoke* 

Even Tutu seemed not to suspect why the 
boys had often such messy spots on their jacket 
linings, or their cotton waists ; but it was really 
because they stuffed their blouses with the oozy 
dock stems, which were, directly opportunity 
offered, spread on the veranda roof to dry. 
They had plans of what to say in case Tutu 
found them there ; but somehow she never did. 

Sophy Jane knew of the stems, and she held 
her knowledge as a whip over the boys. 

‘‘ If you don’t give us as many as we want, 
and let us smoke too, I shall tell, and then you’ll 
see,” she threatened. It’s no worse for us to 
smoke than it is for you. The Minister smokes. 
Rachel and I are as big as you are, and our 
stomachs are as strong as horses, so you needn’t 
keep saying it will make us sick. It did make 
Paul sick ? Well, it won’t make us.” 

So it was arranged that Sophy Jane and 
Rachel should attend the Smoker. 

Not every day, even after the lily stems had 
dried to a proper dryness, was there a chance to 
smoke. Somebody was always sure to be about. 
It was certainly strange what a faculty for being 


“JOYS THAT WE’VE TASTED” 177 


about the Elders had, especially Tutu. At 
last a very good day came. It was Saturday. 
The Doctor was obliged to take a long drive to 
minister to an ill person, and as the day was 
fine he invited Mrs. Doctor to drive with him. 
Mrs. Doctor, in turn, invited Daffy to be of the 
party, so they set off early in the afternoon. 
The children were told, as usual, to be good. 
Usually they were also told not to play with 
matches ; but on this day, by some happy chance, 
the matches were omitted from the final injunc- 
tions. It seemed an especial Providence. 

Sophy Jane and Jimmy arrived. They told 
Tutu they could stay two hours. They seemed 
especially quiet, and as Sophy had a copy of a 
very favorite story-book under her arm. Tutu got 
it into her head that the children would sit 
quietly on the porch and listen to the story of 
The Proud Girl Humhled or of John True. 

Tutu went up to her room with a basket of 
stockings to mend. There were a great many 
holes in the stockings that week, and mending 
them would take two hours at least. 

The time had come. 

Jimmy had brought a pocketful of matches, 
so there should be no hitch in the proceedings. 


178 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Dick had all the dried stems laid neatly in an 
old cigar-box. It made them seem like the real 
thing. 

We daren’t smoke here on the steps, or even 
in the garden,” said Jimmy, cautiously. Smoke 
smells so, and Tutu’s got the longest nose for 
smells that ever was made.” 

“ The woodshed loft,” suggested Sophy Jane. 

Mother never will let Chris smoke out there 
when he cuts the firewood,” said Rachel. And 
as for the barn — ” 

“Let’s go and sit in the alley behind the 
barn,” proposed Jimmy; “then if anybody 
catches us, we can run.” 

Dick hugged the box up to his blouse. 

“ If everybody isn’t going to be fair, there isn’t 
going to be any smoking,” he announced. “ If 
we’re caught, we’ll all be caught alike, and 
nobody is going to run.” 

Yes ; they agreed to be fair. 

They could have gotten into the alley by sev- 
eral easy ways ; but there was also a hard way, 
over a high picket fence. They chose the hard way. 
The boys got over quickly and safely. Sophy 
Jane tore her apron, and Rachel skinned her 
knee. The Doctor once said that he wondered 


“JOYS THAT WE’VE TASTED” 179 

how Rachel would look with all her skin on. 
Rachel could not imagine. 

The boys found a board and turned it clean 
side up against the stable wall. Then they all 
sat down. 

Jimmy counted out the matches : four for 
each ; Dick counted out the stems : four for 
each. The rest were to be saved until the next 
time. 

They lighted the cigars and sat in a row, 
puffing away. 

“ This is grand,” said Jimmy. 

“ Perfectly delicious,” sighed Sophy Jane. 

Dick smoked in silence. 

« I’m — not much used to it yet,” admitted 
Rachel. “My cigar keeps going out, and Pve 
used up all my matches. Give me another, 
Jim.” 

Jimmy had used but one of his, so he gave one 
to Rachel. 

They could hear Tutu singing upstairs : — 

“ Y-e-s, I’m — glad — I’m — in — this — army, 
Y-e-s, I’m — glad — I’m — in — this — army, 

And I’ll battle — for — the — Lord.” 

A valiant member of the Church Militant was 
Tutu, and she meant every word of the loud 


180 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


hymn. People had not begun to talk about the 
strenuous life, in those days ; but if ever a woman 
was strenuous, that woman was Tutu. 

Dick smoked steadily on. He was, it was 
true, quite pale, and a line of pain shadowed his 
beautiful great eyes. He had finished two 
stems, and was beginning on the third. 

Sophy Jane puffed away with the air of a 
connoisseur. There was but little flavor to the 
dried stalks ; but her vivid imagination supplied 
all that the stem lacked. She was having a 
beautiful time. 

Jimmy and Rachel were companions in du- 
plicity. They hated the smoke, and their 
stomachs felt very queer ; but they stood by their 
colors. Both felt that to confess to disappoint- 
ment and to give up, would be unmanly. Both 
wished, above all things, to be manly, so they 
made a pretence of being charmed with their 
cigars. 

Nobody said much, and nobody noticed that 
Tutu had stopped being glad she was in an army, 
and wishing to battle for the Lord. 

The Town Clock struck three. : 

Jimmy sighed. There was a whole hour left 
of the time allotted to the visit. Would Dick 


JOYS THAT WE’VE TASTED” 181 


expect him to smoke all that hour? He had 
nearly three stems — cigars — left. 

No ; Dick would expect nothing. The barn- 
door opened and Tutu stood before them. Ap- 
parently there would be no future for any of them. 

“ Well, I never ! ” said Tutu. 

The children stood up. 

“ You two may go along home,” said Tutu, 
with withering scorn. “ Never mind about the 
extra hour. You’ve been here long enough. You 
can do as you like about what you tell when 
you get there. Dick ! Rachel ! I guess it ain’t 
worth while to wait till your Pa comes home 
before the whipping begins. You’ve earned one 
apiece, that’s certain, and I’ll take it on myself 
to see that you are paid here and now. Why 
you haven’t set yourselves and the barn afire I 
don’t know. ’Twould have been a pity if the 
harn had been burnt up.” 

Sophy Jane and Jimmy started on the home- 
ward trail, slowly and sadly. They could hear 
the loud wailing of Rachel’s voice as she received 
the swift reward for her evil deeds. Dick bore 
his punishment without a word. 

Goodness ! but I’m glad that Tutu don’t 
live with us,” said Sophy Jane, devoutly. 


182 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Peace was restored long before the next 
scheme was exploited. 

There was to be an Election. An Election is 
a very exciting thing, which usually occurs in 
the Fall. Two men, or maybe more, wish to 
be something, and everybody else goes all but 
crazy in trying to help the one to get what he 
wants, and to hinder the other from doing so. 
There does not seem to be much sense to it, and 
whichever way an Election goes, the sun con- 
tinues to rise and set, and the seasons to come 
and go much the same as before. It is always 
going to be the end of everything if the wrong 
man is elected ; but somehow, even if he is, the 
prophesied catastrophe never comes ofp. It is, 
however, a time of great excitement for the 
boys. 

Prior to the Election there were to be 
Parades, two Parades — one for each of the 
great political parties. The children would, it 
is true, look at that of the party opposed to that 
to which their own families belonged ; but it 
would be with hostile eyes, and comments of 
an uncomplimentary nature would have been 
passed thereon but for the stern restrictions of 
the Elders. It was imperative that something 


“JOYS THAT WE’VE TASTED” 183 


great should be done in honor of their own 
Parade; but to do things requires money. 

The boys looked into their money boxes. 
Each had an allowance of spending money 
which was paid in on the first morning of every 
month. By twelve o’clock of the same day 
each boy was usually a bankrupt, and as it was 
not allowed that one either tease for more, or 
go in debt for anything, twenty-nine or thirty 
days of abject poverty ensued. These were 
mitigated by their system of swapping things, 
but still it was not pleasant, and lately they 
had begun to save up. Now, all told, the boys 
had fourteen cents. It was a bad outlook. Fifty 
cents was the sum required, and between four- 
teen and fifty there is a great gulf fixed. 

Dick approached the little girls diplomati- 
cally. 

“ How much money have you got in your tin 
banks ? ” 

“ What do you want to know for ? ” 

“ Oh, just because. We’ve got a splendid 
scheme, and we thought maybe you’d like to be 
let in.” Dick walked away. 

They longed to be let in. 

Rachel rushed to her tin bank. It rattled 


184 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


feebly. Only two cents lay between her and the 
wolf. 

Sophy Jane went home to examine her store. 
Rachel went with her. Sophy had had extra 
expenses that month, and out of her larger al- 
lowance had saved one five-cent piece and three 
pennies. It was not at all likely that they 
would be let in for ten cents. 

They went up to Molly’s. 

She had not heard of the new scheme, but 
she became wild to be let in, and began to cry 
when it was discovered that she had not a cent 
to bless herself with, and was, therefore, with- 
out hope of being noticed by the fortune-hunting 
gentlemen. 

The Youngest Aunt came by, and asked what 
Molly was crying about. Learning of her desti- 
tute condition, she contributed two silver three- 
cent pieces to her relief. She said she had no 
more, or she would give one each to Rachel and 
to Sophy Jane. They were very sorry she had 
no more, and said so very politely. 

Sophy Jane was always lucky. On the way 
down to the Doctor’s she stubbed her toe and fell, 
and as she fell her hand touched a large copper 
penny that lay on the board walk. She could 


“JOYS THAT WE’VE TASTED” 185 


hardly believe her eyes, but it was true. She 
forgot to cry over the fall she was so pleased 
with the money, and armed with seventeen 
cents the little girls hastened to the woodshed, 
where the boys were in consultation. When 
the boys saw all that money, they let the girls 
in. 

“ It is to be this,” explained Dick. “ Our 
Parade is to pass here, and we are going to 
build an observatory under the linden tree on 
the corner. It will be a kind of table thing, and 
we shall crawl up to it by Jimmy’s step-ladder. 
It’s broken, and his mother said he could have 
it. We can get the boards and nails easy enough, 
and Chris will help us make it ; but it’s got to 
be trimmed off with red, white, and blue stuff, 
and we’ve all got to have flags to wave when we 
holler. It will cost at least fifty cents to do it 
up in good style, and it’s got to be all right, if 
I have anything to do with it. I won’t have 
those Democrats laughing at us.” 

All resolved that rather than give occasion 
for laughter to the Democrats, their lives, their 
fortunes, and their sacred honor should go. 
Paul was made treasurer, and when all had paid 
in, thirty-one cents lay in his pocket. Sophy 


186 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


Jane borrowed a threaded needle of Tutu and 
sewed the pocket fast shut. 

“ The next thing will be to earn money,” said 
Dick. “ Let everybody think.” 

“ I could shovel snow,” said Paul, resolutely. 
But there was no snow. 

Last Summer I sold a basketful of peas 
and two squashes to Mrs. Baker,” said Rachel. 
“ Mother said I could have them out of the gar- 
den, and Mrs. Baker said she’d buy them if 
I would shell the peas, she had no time to 
bother ; so I did, and she gave me fifteen cents.” 
Pea season was long past, however, and there 
were no more squashes, so Mrs. Baker could not 
be considered as a source of revenue. 

Sophy Jane felt that she would shine as a 
nurse-maid, but the Village mothers either took 
care of their own babies, or trusted them to 
older hands than hers, so there was no use think- 
ing of that. Couldn’t they have a Show ? 

All looked approvingly at Sophy Jane. 

The Show came off on the Saturday next 
ensuing, in the large, pleasant, chip-smelling 
woodshed, in which, luckily, the Winter’s wood 
was not yet stored. There were plenty of nice, 
thick sticks left over, to be used for seating the 


“JOYS THAT WE’VE TASTED” 187 


audience, and in front of the double row of seats 
thus provided two old quilts were hung on a 
piece of clothes-line. Two members of the 
troupe, who might, at the moment, be at leisure 
from performing, were to hold these curtains 
back and display the various scenes of the tab- 
leaux vivants^ which was the form of Show Sophy 
Jane had decided upon as best adapted to the 
resources in hand. 

Paul as treasurer stood at the shed door and 
took in the gate money. Admission was one 
cent, and a goodly number of boys and girls 
came to the Show. In all sixteen, and really 
more would have been an inconvenience. 

By half-past one Paul saw that every log was 
filled, and he left the door to take his place in 
the opening tableau. Sophy Jane had persuaded 
them that a series of Biblical scenes would take 
well, and would be easy to do. She wished to 
begin with the Garden of Eden, and have an 
aesthetic display of dahlias, marigolds, and other 
Autumn flowers ; but this the boys voted down 
as being too tame. So the first scene was to 
be the Killing of Abel. Jimmy as Cain was 
wonderful. The Doctor’s brother, who was a 
Captain loaned a pair of pistols, and with one 


188 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


of these in each of Jimmy’s hands, with epau- 
lets on Jimmy’s shoulders, and a soldier’s cap 
cocked fiercely above Jimmy’s frowning brows, 
there was nothing left for poor little Paul, as 
Abel, to do but to fall over with a loud whoop 
of anguish. Sophy Jane, as Eve, pinned up 
in a sheet, and with a splendid wig of yellow 
shavings, shrieked in the background ; while 
Dick, as Father Adam, with stern counte- 
nance and uplifted horsewhip, was about to 
chastise his erring first-born, when the curtain 
dropped, and the beholders applauded this 
spirited scene to the echo. 

The Sacrifice of Isaac was next presented, 
Rachel and Molly pulling at the quilts. Dick, 
as Abraham, with a beard of the yellow 
shavings, an old hat of Grandfather’s, and the 
Doctor’s fiowered dressing-gown, held a hatchet 
threateningly over the head of the prostrate and 
screaming Jimmy; while Paul, in the sheet that 
had just enwrapped Mother Eve, stayed the 
murderous hand. There had been some trouble 
about the ram for the sacrifice, but this had 
been done away by tying the family cat to a pot 
of rose geranium. A cat is not a ram exactly, 
but both are domestic animals, and the scene 


JOYS THAT WE’VE TASTED” 189 


was considered very realistic. One little girl said 
that when old Puss meawed^ it sounded almost 
exactly like a sheep. 

Concession was made by the actors to the 
actresses in the next scene, which was Jacob's 
Dream. One of the boys took a very unrestful 
position with his head on an empty pickle jar, 
and snored lustily ; while up and down Jimmy’s 
recently acquired step-ladder the three girls clam- 
bered, one at a time. They had on their night- 
gowns over their dresses, and, except that their 
manners lacked repose, and angels’ knees are not 
unusually depicted as their most prominent fea- 
ture, they did very well. 

To represent Joseph and His Brethren required 
the assistance of the entire troupe, and even then 
several Tribes were lost before their time. Two 
of the spectators were asked to officiate as quilt- 
raisers while Joseph was on view, and also while 
the Children of Israel crossed the Red Sea. The 
Doctor’s old army blanket was the sea, and a 
very excellent sea it made. No one could have 
taken it for any other sea than the Red Sea, so 
red was it. Big chips were laid in a track 
across it, and over these Moses and Aaron led 
the hosts in safety. Each member of the party 


190 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


blew blasts on his tin horn, so the effect was 
brilliant. 

They had David and Goliath, and Daniel in 
the Lion’s Den. Jimmy stuffed out with pillows 
made an excellent Goliath, and as there were not 
cats enough to make a proper den of lions, every- 
body but Paul, who was Daniel, put something 
over his head, and crawled about on all fours, 
growling so viciously and roaring so terribly that 
Daniel looked more than pleased when relief 
came in the unexpected appearance of the Doc- 
tor’s Wife with her best silver basket filled with 
seed-cakes, followed by Tutu with a jug of 
lemonade. 

It seemed almost a pity that with forty-seven 
cents ready in hand to be spent in decking off a 
grand stand for Parade day, and for the discom- 
fiture of the Democrats, that a few days before 
the Parade, men who were on the Committee called 
at the houses of all the children and requested 
their active participation in a larger way. A 
float was to be adorned by a Goddess of Liberty 
enthroned, around whom white-robed States 
were to cluster, typifying the Union. There 
were to be white frocks, red caps, blue sashes 
bearing the names of States to be honored. 


“JOYS THAT WE’VE TASTED” 191 


waving flags, — oh, who would not be a State ? 
Rachel wept for joy when she found that she 
was to be Nevada, and ran to look for the word 
in her little geography. Sophy Jane, out of 
compliment to her parents, was to be Massachu- 
setts, and for like reason Molly was to be Ohio. 
To have been Indiana, was an honor to which 
one dared not aspire. 

The boys were honored also. In sailor suits, 
with shiny caps and belts, they were to man a 
boat which was to represent Our Navy. Our 
Army — a fort-looking thing — was to be de- 
fended by larger and fiercer-looking boys. It wsls 
to be simply splendid to drive slowly past admir- 
ing throngs of enthusiastic townsmen and country 
folk, hurrahing and hurrahed at, and even per- 
mitted by the etiquette of the occasion to yell 
derisively at children who were Democrats : “ Hi, 
there ! Don’t you wish you was me ? ” 

But the money ! It had been consecrated to a 
great cause ; it must not be diverted to lower 
uses. It should not be. 

The men who were on the Parade Committee 
were having a meeting. Almost all of them had 
been away fighting in the great war, not so far 
in the past, then, by many a long year, as it is 


192 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


now, and on that account they wore a halo in 
the eyes of the children. They looked up when 
the Committee-room door opened, and the boys, 
followed at a distance by three scared little girls, 
came in. 

Dick was a bashful boy, but he was no 
coward. He walked up to the table and laid 
the money down in orderly rows, — half-dimes, 
three-cent pieces, pennies — mostly pennies. 

“ Part we saved,” he explained, and part we 
earned. Please spend it on the Parade. We 
want to do our share.” 

The tall General put his hand on the lad’s 
shoulder, and his voice broke. 

‘‘ It was good work fighting for the old flag. 
Comrades,” he said, since we can hand it on to 
such as these.” 


CHAPTER XI 


County ifair 

Sad days had come to Sophy Jane and to 
Rachel. It was decreed by their elders and 
betters that they must learn to sew. 

There was a tradition in the Village of those 
days, that the highest type of womanhood was 
that set forth in that particular chapter of the 
Book of Proverbs in which all the home-making, 
housewifely virtues are praised with the com- 
fortable appreciation of a man who has had a 
good mother and a good wife. Of this com- 
mentary the verses referring to the needle were 
considered to be peculiarly applicable to little 
girls, and it was considered by grandmothers 
and grand-aunts to be little less than a scandal 
that Sophy Jane at twelve and Rachel at ten 
barely knew which end of the needle carried the 
thread. The dark hour of their initiation into the 
mysteries of running, hemming, felling, and so 
on, could now no longer be averted, and thimbles 


193 


194 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


and other implements were provided, with a hope 
of making less dreary the dreaded pathway. 

Sophy Jane shadowed forth the New Woman. 

“ I don’t see why we should learn,” she argued. 
“ Boys don’t, and they get on very well indeed. 
When a girl knows how to sew, she always has 
to make trimmed-up things for herself, which 
are no good, and which it always makes her un- 
happy to wear. I know when I have on my best 
petticoat, — the one with lace and inserging that 
Mother made with her own hands, — I have to 
be so prim I wish I was dead. You needn’t say, 
‘ that’s wicked,’ for I do. When Sister was going 
to be married, she had a horrible time. She made 
tucks all the morning and tatting all the after- 
noon — miles and miles of tatting to sew on the 
tucks. I s’pose she’s had to be careful of her 
things ever since, and I know that’s made her 
miserable, for she likes fun as well as anybody ; 
but you really ham to have puffs and lace if 
you’re married. If you aren’t, plain hems will 
do very well, and Miss Banks will make things 
if they only have plain hems. If it’s learn to 
sew or not be married, I’ve decided not to 
marry.” 

Rachel was secretly sorry to hear this. All of 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


195 


the lovely princesses and charming ladies of the 
fairy tales she loved were married, in the grcmd 
Jmale^ and she longed to follow them in all 
things. She longed still more to be like Sophy 
Jane, so she renounced the holy state of matri- 
mony without a word. 

“Yes,” she responded, “I’d rather have plain 
hems and fun than no end of inserging, and be 
married and miserable. I hope Miss Banks will 
live forever and forever ; then we need not 
bother.” 

“ I wish we were boys, anyhow,” went on 
Sophy Jane. “ Nearly all the good times go 
their way ; but we can’t do this and can’t do that 
because we’re girls. I hate girls.” 

“ Mother is a girl,” reproved Daffy. 

There was no escape from this burden of their 
sex. Sophy Jane was given the breadths of a 
skirt to stitch, and Rachel was set to over-and- 
over a pillow-case for her little bed. 

Hers was indeed a weary seam. Large black 
knots marked the beginning of each day’s task, 
followed by a row of stitches in many varying 
shades of gray, which straggled along like very 
raw recruits at drill, while round dots of blood 
spoke of many a wounded finger. It was lucky 


196 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


that so wide an expanse of muslin was ready at 
hand to wipe away the tears of the doleful little 
maid, who stitched away so unwillingly through 
many a warm Summer afternoon. 

Aunt Mary came to the rescue. The very 
nicest aunts seem, somehow, always to be named 
Mary. Perhaps some special grace of sympathy 
and helpfulness clings to those who bear the 
name made beautiful forever by a young Jewish 
girl, ages and ages ago. 

“The pillow-case is so uninteresting. Sister 
Kitty,” she said. “ I do not wonder that the 
poor little thing cries over it. Send her up to 
the Old House, and I will give her lessons. We 
will keep what we are doing a great secret, dear, 
and we must try to work faithfully at it, so 
that dear Mother will not be sorry she trusted 
us.” 

It was the most beautiful secret imaginable. 
A large boxful of little six-sided scraps of paper 
covered over with every pretty sort of ribbon 
and satin and silk, and these were to be over- 
stitched together, so many every day, until 
there should be a sofa pillow ready for dear 
Mother’s Christmas present. Certainly this was 
the royal road to the estate of the Complete 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


197 


Needlewoman. The secrecy was also delightful, 
and was speedily shared with everybody whom 
Rachel knew, excepting only the Doctor’s Wife, 
who looked as if she did not know it at all. 

There were no more tears. Rachel sat by 
Aunt Mary’s side, while Grandmother, with her 
knitting in her hands, told endless stories of her 
childhood in the Old Dominion, which would 
always be ‘‘home” to her longing heart. The 
waters of the Potomac rippled softly through 
those quiet tales ; the shadows drifted over the 
noble curves of the Blue Ridge, which faded, 
faded, as they melted into the Valley which is 
the pride and glory of the Commonwealth. 
Rachel tried to picture to herself the rocky 
hillsides, where the laurel thickets flushed into 
white and pink blossomings ; and she tried to 
see the tender haze that hovered over the scenes 
once so familiar, always so dear, to the gentle 
old eyes, wdiich grew gentler still as Grandmother 
thought of the long, long past. We speak of 
looking backward ; is it not looking forward 
that we mean ? 

Suddenly it was October, and time for the 
County Fair. Suddenly, also, all the over-and- 
overing was done. A gay pillow, finished to the 


198 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


last stitch, lay on the shelf in Aunt Mary’s 
closet, and Rachel was running about with an- 
other secret to tell. It was to be entered to 
compete for a premium at the Fair. 

The boys had caught the Fair fever also, and 
had procured a yellow pamphlet in which the pre- 
miums were listed. They looked it over eagerly. 

Horses, cattle, sheep, swine, grains, fruits, 
vegetables — they had none to offer. Fowls? 
Yes, they had fowls. 

Paul had a duck, a very admirable duck, al- 
though it was a little lame. A man once gave 
it to him out of a farm-wagon in which he was 
carrying a brood of ducklings to his married 
daughter. One of the little ones got hurt, and 
the man did not know what to do with it. No 
one would want a lame duck, he said, yet he 
hated to kill the poor little thing. So he was 
very glad to give it to Paul, who asked him for it 
rather timidlyi The duck had grown to be large 
and fat, and had been provided with a mate 
through the united purses of the three boys. 
The drake had a curled-up tail, and the most 
splendid neck feathers imaginable. 

The boys were much attached to the ducks. 
They sat for hours on the bank of a weedy little 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


199 


pond to which the pair had waddled and wherein 
they disported themselves, and they were agreed 
in believing that such evolutions were never before 
seen. It seemed to them hardly possible that 
another pair so interesting could anywhere be 
found, and to enter them for a premium seemed 
but a simple act of justice. So not only the 
sofa pillow, but the ducks also went to the County 
Fair. 

In semi-rural communities, in the years before 
people had forgotten to remember that to-morrow 
is also a day, there was no School during Fair 
week. It would have been futile to attempt to hold 
the usual sessions, since none but “ sissy ” boys 
would have dreamed of attending, and the few 
girls who could have been coerced into going 
would have been so idle and so cross that the 
Teachers would have been very unhappy. They 
wisely ordered holiday for the whole week, and 
took their own pleasure in the great half-open, 
half-wooded enclosure wherein the whole coun- 
tryside assembled to celebrate a sort of Feast of 
Tabernacles before the settling down of the early 
cold of the Northern winter should shut them in 
to their own firesides. It was a highly prized 
opportunity for the exchange of friendly greet- 


200 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


ings and experiences, as well as for the rivalry 
that stimulates to larger effort in the way of 
improved agriculture and housewifery. Nothing 
but good could come of seeing the best pos- 
sible development of the resources of the bounti- 
ful old Mother Nature, so ready with her aid, 
and surely in this world wherein one must per- 
force strive for something, to have the name of 
being the best butter maker, or the grower of 
the finest pears, or corn, or roses, or cows, is as 
well worth striving for as is any other goal. So 
the various departments were so full of inter- 
esting things that the various Committees had 
a hard time in selecting those worthiest of the 
premiums. 

Sophy Jane stood entranced before a work of 
art called an Agricultural Wreath. It, or its 
duplicate, came every year to the Fair, and 
she knew exactly where to go to see this wonder. 
It was framed in a deep oval frame under glass, 
and it was so splendid that it would have orna- 
mented a King’s palace. It is doubtful if any 
King on any throne had ever such a thing as 
this; — perhaps nobody at all has one to-day. 
Large rosette-like flowers made of red or 
yellow corn, with tufted centres of crimson or 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


201 


yellow wool, and varnished with a thick shiny 
varnish, were called dahlias, and contended for 
the places of honor with roses made out of whitey 
or pinky squash or melon seeds and clusters of 
rice-grain lilacs. Trefoils of Lima beans, ferns 
of unripe oats, pinnated foliage of peas — there 
was really no end to the ingenuity displayed by 
the artificer with the rather vegetable-like name 
of Kale who had constructed these marvels which 
Sophy thought so beautiful. Who could have 
guessed that in the years to come men and 
women of the highest culture would stand rever- 
ently before the work of the little girl herself? 

“ If I didn’t have to learn to sew, I could 
make a better wreath than that myself,” said 
Sophy Jane, with conviction. 

This seemed so presumptuous to Rachel’s scan- 
dalized ears that she walked hastily away in the 
direction of the sofa pillow, now hanging by one 
corner in the department devoted to patchery. 
Pride was very well. She was proud of the 
pillow herself ; but to speak as Sophy Jane had 
spoken of the Agricultural Wreath, was little 
better than sacrilege. 

A lady was standing near the needle-worked 
things, and was examining the work critically. 


202 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


She did not belong to the Village, or Rachel, 
who knew everybody, would have known her. 
Probably she was the wife of one of the well- 
to-do farmers whose homes lay under the shelter 
of the woods that dotted and bordered the 
rolling prairies. She had a kindly face, and 
seemed greatly interested in the display before 
her. 

Rachel approached her cautiously. 

“ Are you on the Committee ? ” she asked. 

“ Yes, little girl.” 

“ I am sorry for that,” said Rachel, politely. 
“ I was just going to ask you if you did not 
think that sofa pillow was very well done for 
a little girl just learning to sew. Somebody 
I know made it. She’s ten, going on ’leven, 
but she’s nearer ’leven than ten, and she sewed 
as hard as ever she could to get it done in 
time for the Fair. Aunt Mary hardly helped 
her at all, only she did the basting. If she 
gets the premium, I’m going to — but if you’re 
the Committee, the little girl must not try to 
influence you. Dick says if anybody influences 
the Committee, she’s got to go to jail. I should 
hate being shut up in a dark cell full of robbers 
and murderers, shouldn’t you ? ” 


THE COUNTY FAIR 203 

Yes ; the lady thought that might be very 
disagreeable. 

“ Our boys have entered the ducks,” she went 
on confidentially. “ They’re splendid ducks, only 
Martha Washington is lame. General Washing- 
ton has the splendidest feathers, and they can 
both quack like anything. I am almost sure 
they’ll get the premium, and then if I get — 
oh ! I forgot you were on the Committee. 
You wouldn’t call what I’ve said influencing? 
You wouldn’t want to send me to jail for 
it, would you?” 

No, indeed. Nothing was farther from the 
lady’s thoughts. She patted the thin little 
cheek kindly, and walked away. Rachel felt 
sure that any one so nice would never be instru- 
mental in sending her to jail, so she too moved 
off toward the other end of the Pavilion. 

The Pavilion was a large shed, unpainted 
and rough. Crayon portraits, and landscapes, 
and flower pieces in oil and water colors, were 
hanging against the walls ; w^hile on tables and 
on ropes stretched for the purpose hung all of 
the knitted and patched quilts and things, and 
beyond these were displays of every sort of good- 
tasting stuff that ever was heard of, — jelly, 


204 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


pickles, preserves, bread and cake, butter like 
ingots of gold, rounds of delicious-looking 
cheeses, cakes of home-made soap, bottles of 
home-made wines, festoons of home-cured hams, 
boxes of home-grown honey. It made one’s 
mouth water merely to look at them, and it 
really was no proper place for a hungry child. 
When one grew up, one would be placed on a 
Committee, and have the right to taste any- 
thing and everything ; but it seemed a long 
time to wait, and it seemed surprising that 
when Committees could eat a whole plateful, 
they should take only such tiny bites. On the 
previous day one of the tasting ladies had given 
Sophy Jane a large slice of pound cake, and 
after she had taken the precaution of eating it 
to the last crumb, she went forth and boasted 
of her good fortune ; but although her comrades 
made all due haste to place themselves as near 
to the tasters as they could get, no more gifts 
were forthcoming. To-day, as all the awards 
had been announced, there was nothing to be 
expected in the Pavilion ; however, as luncheon 
was to be served at noon in the Linwood rocka- 
way, it was not so trying to look at the good 
things beyond one’s reach. 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


205 


All of the carriages were grouped about under 
the trees of the oak grove which lay along the 
race track. The horses had been led away to 
the feeding-sheds, and in the vehicles the 
hostesses were uncovering their baskets. The 
children were wedged in between their elders 
and gorged themselves, the early start, the 
excitement, and the crisp air of the royal 
October weather having given their appetites 
an extra edge. Never were pleasanter feasts 
than were the basket feasts of the County Fair 
times. One had not only one’s own supply 
of fried chicken, sandwiches, fruit, hard-boiled 
eggs, and every sort of cake ever thought of ; 
but people from adjoining carriages were con- 
stantly handing pots of damson preserve or 
baskets of luscious grapes, over the carriage 
wheels, and one handed back plates of deli- 
cately sliced ham, or jars of spiced gooseberries. 
Recipes for this or that were exchanged with 
the return of empty dishes, and compliments 
were both generous and sincere. No one in or 
about the Village saw cause for shame in 
honest appetite, or was chary of honest praise. 
It was a sign of good breeding to praise a 
hostess, delicately, on the success of her dishes ; 


206 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


and it was a sign of breeding even better than 
good, for ladies to make an opportunity to tell 
the cook how much they appreciated her 
efforts to give pleasure. No one ever discussed 
the servant problem in the Village, since there 
was none to discuss, only a kind and helpful 
relationship between mistress and maid at once 
beautiful and wise. 

After the baskets were repacked, the older 
ladies and the smaller children settled them- 
selves comfortably to look at the races, — the 
men, the larger children, and the young girls 
old enough to have sweethearts to take care of 
them, choosing to move about, and get better 
views. 

It was all very interesting. Jockeys who 
wore gay caps sat lightly on horses which 
pranced and curveted proudly before the admir- 
ing crowds, or strained every muscle in the wild 
dash they made as they flashed around the track 
to the goal. Other men, crouched in spidery 
little sulkies, drove their horses around the well- 
watered oval, urging them on to their best efforts 
with low cries, or a touch of the long, thin lashes 
they carried. The winning horses were quickly 
blanketed, and led away to be rubbed down, fol- 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


207 


lowed by as many boys as could tear themselves 
away from the palings before the Grand Stand — 
palings erected, it would seem, expressly to be a 
boy-perch. Then with much ding-donging of the 
starter’s bell, with many false starts and swift 
recalls, new horses would trot off to make their 
records. Perhaps there was a little betting 
among some of the younger men ; but openly 
there was nothing to offend, nothing but a fair 
testing of wind and limb and of skilful training. 

While the races were at their height, the boys 
bethought themselves of their ducks. What if 
the premiums had been awarded since they took 
a last look at noon ? It would be well to see 
at once, so they darted off in the direction 
of the shed in which the coops were arranged, 
and whence a clamor of quacking, gobbling, 
crowing, clucking, squawking, and cooing could 
be heard far and wide. 

There was only disappointment in store for 
the boys. The ducks had been judged, and 
neither the blue ribbon for best, the red ribbon 
for the next best, nor even the yellow tag for 
honorable mention were for them. All had been 
awarded to dwellers in the next tier. Neither 
General Washington nor his wife minded it in 


208 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


the least, however. They quacked joyfully when 
they saw their little masters, and ruffled out 
their resplendent plumage as proudly as possible. 

It would not be speaking truthfully to say 
that the boys did not resent this slight, and they 
would probably have' grown very much excited 
but for something which happened just at that 
moment. 

Next to the duck pens were stages on which 
coopsful of chickens stood, and among these 
some very fine fowls were to be seen. The boys 
had especially admired the Plymouth Rocks. 
The best display of these belonged to a farmer 
living out beyond Linwood, a very honest farmer, 
who had well earned the title he bore through- 
out the whole prairie of being a ‘‘ clever neigh- 
bor’’ — clever in the good old sense of being 
helpful and kindly. He had shown this quality 
in the readiness with which he promised every 
one who asked for them a sitting of Plymouth 
Rock eggs, and one of his first promises had 
been to the boys who now intended to become 
poultry fanciers on as large a scale as possible. 
He said he did not wish to make money off his 
friends, and that he should only charge regular 
table-egg prices for his fine Plymouth Rock eggs. 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


209 


The boys thought they could safely engage four 
sittings of eggs, and the farmer said if they 
meant four, he meant five, so everybody was 
pleased. 

Another man had Plymouth Rocks also. He 
did not belong to the Village or to its neighbor- 
hood, but the boys knew his face. It was not 
a nice face, for his eyes were of a pale watery 
blue, and were constantly shifting. One cannot 
help the color of one’s eyes ; but if one has an 
honest heart, one is apt to have steady eyes. 
This man’s eyes were not honest, and it had not 
been becoming in him to stand about and dis- 
parage other people’s chickens in the way he 
had done. 

When the boys came suddenly around the 
corner, they were surprised to find the man 
busily engaged in trying to force the lock of 
Mr. Fieldwood’s coop, which now bore the blue 
ribbon. The fowls themselves seemed to know 
that danger was near, for they were huddled 
together in a frightened way at the farther end 
of the coop. Chickens may be stupid, but even 
they know when a bad man is about. 

“ That’s not your coop. Mister,” called Dick. 

\The man faced about. He looked angrily at 


210 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


the boys, and then he began to smile in a coax- 
ing way. 

‘‘ Oh, yes it is, my little man.’’ 

‘‘ It’s Mr. Fieldwood’s, you mean,” retorted 
Jim. “We know him very well. He’s going to 
give us a whole sitting of eggs next Spring.” 

“ He’ll bile ’em first, so’s they won’t hatch,” 
sneered the man. “ If I was you, I’d ruther 
have ten cents to spend to-day ’n a promise of 
suthin’ half a year off. Wouldn’t you like to 
have ten cents ? ” 

He held up a slip of green paper, which meant 
ten cents in those days. 

“No, sir,” said the boys. 

“ Come, now. An’ you mustn’t say these 
chickens is his’n. We traded places for our 
coops this mornin’, an’ these here prize-winners 
is mine, every feather of ’em.” 

“ Dick,” said Paul, suddenly, “ I know better. 
I remember that nice little hanging-up waterpan, 
don’t you ? Mr. Fieldwood said he fixed it him- 
self. I asked him where he got it, ’cause it’s 
the only one I ever saw.” 

The man began to look angry. 

“You clear out o’ here,” he said, roughly. 
“Like’s not you’ve come sneakin’ in here to 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


211 


steal suthin’j ’n’ if you don’t show a clean pair o’ 
heels this minute, I’ll call the constable. Look 
sharp, now.” 

‘‘Run and fetch Mr. Fieldwood, Paul,” said 
Dick. “Jim and I’ll stay here. Let that lock 
alone ! ” 

“ I’ve a right to lock up my own coop, you lit- 
tle wretch ! ” 

“ But you’ve no right to touch other people’s. 
If what you say is true, you’d only be too glad 
to wait till Mr. Fieldwood comes. He’s only 
over by the sheep.” 

When the man heard this, he said some very 
ugly words, and he gave the lock a vicious 
wrench. It was only an old lock, and now it 
broke. As it broke, Paul returned, panting, fol- 
lowed by the farmer. 

“These here lyin’ little thieves,” began the 
man. 

“ Not one word,” said Mr. Fieldwood, sternly. 
“ You don’t know these boys, or the stock they 
come of, or you’d never use such words about 
them. If there’s liars and thieves about, and I 
guess there is, it ain’t them. I’m surprised at 
you. I didn’t think the old County had any of 
your sort. What were you meaning to do : kill 


212 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


my chickens, or steal them ? I reckon it’s my 
bounden duty to let folks know about this — 
but — there — ! You take and load up your 
chickens and clear out, and never do you set 
foot on the Fair grounds again, and I guess we’ll 
let you off.” 

The man shuffled away, and presently he re- 
turned with a little wagon, into which he lifted 
his coops. The Plymouth Rocks were very 
creditable birds, who looked ashamed of their 
master, although his deeds were no fault of 
theirs. A thin little wmman with an anxious, 
frightened face held the horse while the man 
was at work. She looked piteously from her 
husband to Mr. Fieldwood, but she said nothing. 
She looked back over her shoulder as they drove 
away. 

Poor soul ! ” said the farmer, and then he 
turned to the boys : — 

You needn’t wait for Spring for your chickens, 
my lads. That young cockerel, and those two pul- 
lets are yours right here and now. The poor 
fellow’s punished enough, I hope, being found 
out in a mean trick like that, so there’s no need 
for any of us to spread tales. Breath don’t last 
so long with any of us that we need waste it 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


213 


speaking evil of others. That poor little woman 
of his ! ” 

A rooster and two hens ! And out of the pre- 
mium coop ! And just for nothing at all, one 
might say ! The boys were shamefaced enough 
with their mumbled thanks, but they were jubi- 
lant with pride directly they were alone. 

The Fair was over. In the mellow sunlight of 
the still autumnal day, people drove homeward, 
tired and happy. Christmas was antedated by 
two months, as Rachel, in the effervescence of her 
joy, presented the sofa pillow adorned with the 
bluest of blue ribbons to the Doctor’s Wife, and 
danced madly about with the greenest of one- 
dollar notes in her hand. The boys were sternly 
arraigned at the bar of Tutu’s justice when they 
came lagging in, carrying the Plymouth Rocks in 
a basket. 

‘‘He gme them to you? W^hat for? You 
didn’t 

“ No’m,” said the boys. 


CHAPTER XII 


turtle Conquesft of 3poU^on 

It would almost seem as if a perpetual sun- 
shine flooded the Village ; but even there the 
trees were not always clothed with the pride of 
their Midsummer green, nor were the song-spar- 
rows always trilling their simple litany of love 
and faith in the fields that lay about it. Often and 
often, in after years and in alien places, when the 
children, looking backward, listened, in fancy, 
for the mellow thunder of the wings of nesting 
swallows in the old chimney at home, or waited 
for a breath of lilac against the cheek, they re- 
membered that even there it was not always 
lilac-tide, and that sometimes it was only the 
Winter wind that sang over the chimney. 

Winter began, properly speaking, when wal- 
nuts were ripe, and when Saturdays were Satur- 
days no longer, but Walnut days. 

To the intense disgust of Sophy Jane and 
Rachel, girls were not permitted to share in this 


214 


THE CONQUEST OF APOLLYON 215 


sport. It would spoil their hands, their mothers 
said. To this unreasonable reason the little 
girls replied with a display of hands so scratched 
and stained and weather-beaten, that it seemed 
hardly possible that further injury could befall 
them. This unlucky exhibition only fortified the 
two mothers in their decision ; so the boys went 
alone to the deep rich woods, and came back at 
nightfall laden with nuts, quite unhampered by 
the presence of girls. 

Before walnuts ripen there must be a heavy 
frost, and even after a light frost the leaves 
begin to change their colors and to fall. Then 
it is really Winter, although there are days and 
even weeks when the still air is a mellow haze 
through which the lingering sunshine falls on the 
Village maples. Red and crimson, russet and 
gold, they stand in the brooding light that trans- 
forms the familiar streets into a New Jerusalem, 
and whether one is in the body or not, matters 
little ; one is conscious only of the glory and the 
splendor, and the tender melancholy of the Fall. 

When leaves are fallen. Bonfire time begins. 
Even in these latter days it is a season by itself, 
like Apple-blossom-time, or Harvest ; but on the 
Day before Yesterday it was the Year’s high 


216 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


carnival — waited for, planned for, during the 
long, hot weeks of the inland Summer, and for 
many days scenting the still air with the pecul- 
iar, evasive odors of the smoke of burning leaves. 

At the Old House there were only pine trees, 
which kept their slender needles to fight the frost 
with all through the snowy days, near at hand, 
so there was no Bonfire there. Sophy Jane and 
Jimmy postponed theirs until after the Oak 
House festival, so the children made a combined 
assault upon the Doctor’s wealth of leaves, and 
Dick’s Bonfire was the event of the season. It 
was always Dick’s Bonfire, no matter how many 
helpers he had. 

The yard was divided off into districts, and 
rakes were provided. It would have been hard 
work to rake off so many leaves but for the game 
they made out of it, and the fun and romping 
of the long, bright holiday. They made forts 
of leaves, and carried them with wild charges of 
shoutings and laughter. They made ambushes, 
and played at being Indians, with fierce whoops 
and blood-curdling yells of defiance, and they 
buried each other under rustling piles. The 
little girls would have been glad to deck them- 
selves with chaplets and wreaths of the many- 


THE CONQUEST OF APOLLYON 217 


tinted beauties ; but this took so much time, and 
was so essentially feminine, that after a little 
jeering on the part of those whose opinions, how- 
ever tyrannical or however wrong, had always 
the advantage of being masculine, they left off 
wishing to adorn themselves, and raked and 
jumped and shouted as lustily as the boys. 

Other boys came. At first they stood about, 
with their hands in their pockets, and offered 
advice. Then they joined the assault or defence 
of the forts, and added the strength of their 
lungs to the war-whooping. Sooner or later, 
however, Dick had them carrying baskets of 
leaves out into the open street. The country 
folk who drove into town to do their week-end 
errands, drove on the farther side of the road 
when they saw that Dick was arranging his 
Bonfires. This was very considerate of them ; 
but they all knew Dick, and they all felt re- 
warded when they saw the pleased look on his 
face, although he did not otherwise express his 
thanks. 

The leaves were piled into four great heaps, 
and the freed grass shone green with the pleas- 
ure of being able to look about once more, al- 
though had the foolish grass but known it, a 


218 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


warm blanket of the good leaves had been very 
comfortable a little later on. The Cousins had 
spent the day, and were to be sent home at late 
bedtime. Sophy Jane and Jimmy were to re- 
main to the Bonfire tea. Tutu had made the 
dearest little jumbles, and there were to be 
minced chicken, and biscuits, and honey, and 
raspberry jam. 

The Bonfires were to be lighted in succession 
— one, two, three, four. Four was the largest of 
all. It was named for the Doctor, the others 
being called after the other reigning household 
powers, — Mary Baily, Tutu, and the Doctor’s 
Wife. 

It seemed as if night would never come, but 
finally it did. The sun sank behind the western 
woods, and the soft, purple darkness sifted down 
from the skies. Venus showed her large, lam- 
bent flame ; a thin sickle of a moon peeped 
through the bared boughs. 

A good many boys stood about, but for the 
most part they said nothing, only looking on, 
with their hands in their pockets as usual. The 
girls sat on the carriage block. Dick had the 
match-box. 

“ I say,” ventured one boy, « why don’t you 


THE CONQUEST OF APOLLYON 219 


have some real fun with your fire ? If it was 
mine, Pd put some powder under the leaves, and 
show you a thing or two.” 

“ But it isn’t yours,” replied Dick. 

“ I could get you a cartridge or two out of 
my brother’s drawer,” insinuated the boy. “ He 
was in the war, and he ain’t afraid of a little 
powder, nor me neither.” 

“ That’s all right,” answered Dick. « When 
you have a Bonfire, you can do what you like 
with it. This suits me.” 

The boy looked angrily at Dick. His name 
was Anthony, and his father was a drunken 
tailor. The Doctor’s Wife usually made some 
excuse to call Dick in when she saw Anthony 
about. Now Anthony lurked away. 

There was a thrill of excitement. Dick struck 
a match and held it to the wad of waste-paper 
Paul held in his hand. 

The match went out. 

The second match went better. The boys 
made a little cave in the side of the first leaf 
mound, Jim stood close to keep off a possible 
breeze, and the little girls held their breath. 

A tiny wreath of pale blue smoke, then a puff 
of white, then a thin tongue of quivering scarlet, 


220 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


and then, oh ! then, the splendor of the leaping 
flames as the leaves were glorified and changed 
and passed into a new life through the smoke 
and the fire, the quivering heat, the whirling 
sparks, and the graying, whitening ashes. 

Mary Baily smiled over the gate as she watched 
her namesake flame and fade. 

“ The likes of that for a cross old Irish girl 
like me ! ” she marvelled. ‘‘ It’s a proud woman 
I am this night, Dick, me darlin’, and it’s your- 
self’s the rale gintleman to think of givin’ me 
namesake such a fine wake, — God rest all Chris- 
tian sowls ! I must run in, now, and see to me 
supper, and may the Lord love ye all for a set 
of fine childer.” 

Tutu came out to view the hecatomb erected 
in her honor. She had her apron full of sugar 
cakes, so the second Bonfire was an even greater 
success than the first had been. Anthony came 
sauntering back just before the cakes were dis- 
tributed. No one saw him come out of the 
shadow but Dick, who looked at him earnestly. 
Why had he come from the eastward, when his 
home lay at the western end of the street, — 
the end nearest to the first Bonfire ? 

The little girls were wild with delight. Sophy 


THE CONQUEST OF APOLLYON 221 


Jane and Rachel screamed and gesticulated. 
Molly sat dumb with rapture on the carriage 
block. Daffy and Betty had scrambled down 
and had joined the boys. Daffy took Dick’s 
hand, and looked up trustfully into his face. 
She was beginning to be afraid of the night, and 
of the flames, but by his side she felt safe. His 
dark face glowed, and the dancing firelight 
showed his great unfathomable eyes. He looked 
down at his little sister and gave her one of 
his rare smiles. No words were needed when 
Dick smiled. 

The third Bonfire was a thing of the past. 
The foundry whistles blew for six o’clock, and 
the streets were thronged with workmen going 
home to their well-earned Sunday’s rest. Some 
had empty dinner-pails in their hands and pipes 
between their teeth. Most of the men were hurry- 
ing supperward, but a few stopped to see the fires. 

A little careless now, Dick approached the last 
heap of leaves, — the one named for the Doctor, 
and which the silent little son hoped would be 
the best of all. He scratched the match, and 
without letting go of Daffy’s hand, flung it 
among the dry leaves. Jimmy had run into the 
office to call the Doctor to the door, and the 


222 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


pale, handsome face of the Doctor’s Wife showed 
at the window. 

There was a horrible moment when the uni- 
verse seemed rent into ten thousand fragments, 
and a noise louder than the loudest thunder 
crashed about the ears of the blinded, shriek- 
ing, terrified children. No one knew what had 
happened until Daffy fell suddenly forward, a 
bleeding, helpless little figure, which strong arms 
lifted instantly from the threatening flame and 
carried into the house. 

Before morning they knew that Daffy would 
live, and that there would be no marring of the 
pretty face of the little girl who had been so 
cruelly hurt by the bursting cartridges placed 
there, — they knew only too well, — by Anthony 
— Anthony, who was in far worse plight than his 
unconscious victim ; Anthony, who had been 
carried home stunned and bleeding ; Anthony, 
whose hand was against the whole world, and 
to whom no love or sympathy was given. 

It was not until the next day that the Doctor’s 
family heard news of him. 

“ It is an ugly wound,” said the Doctor, gravely. 
“ And I am very much afraid of the fever that 
is rising.” 


THE CONQUEST OF APOLLYON 223 


“ I hope he will die,” said Dick. 

“ My son ! ” 

Yes, sir. I do. He tried to kill Daffy, and 
if he gets killed himself, it will be only just.” 

“He did not try to kill Daffy. He only 
thought of annoying you by a great explosion. 
People have very mistaken ideas on many sub- 
jects — especially of what is just.” 

“All the same I hope Anthony will die,” 
reiterated Dick. 

Daffy was herself again directly, a little 
heroine upon whom all sorts of nice things were 
lavished. She was taken to drive ; she was fed 
with dainties ; she was showered with flowers 
and toys. Beside being a dear little child whom 
everybody loved, the Doctor and his wife had 
lived lives of such unselfish goodness that people 
were only too glad to repay kindness with kind- 
ness. The overflow of Daffy’s high tide of for- 
tune reached as far as Sophy Jane, and the boys 
all but had dyspepsia from their share of the 
crumbs that fell from her table. 

“ Anthony is very, very ill,” said the Doctor. 
“ His father is rarely sober and his mother is 
almost broken down with sorrow and poverty 
and this new burden. His fever is gone, and he 


224 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


needs better nourishment than he is likely to get, 
poor fellow ! I wish, my dear, that you would 
send some chicken broth and a little basket 
of nice things to tempt him. Dick will take 
them.” 

“ No, sir, please.” 

“ I do not think I understand you. Do you 
know that even yet Anthony may die ? ” 

“ I hope he will.” 

Dick,” said the Doctor, sternly, “ we may as 
well have a few plain words now and have done. 
Do you honestly think that Anthony’s sin is as 
great as your own? You have hatred and mur- 
der in your heart. It seems to me a small thing 
that your hands are clean.” 

It was the Doctor who fought his bravest for 
the life that seemed of little value to others. It 
W’as the Doctor’s Wife who sat hour by hour at 
the poor bedside, and shifted pillows, and bathed 
hot hands, and told endless stories. It was Tutu 
who carried the basket of dainties, day after 
day. It was the little sisters who loaned their 
favorite story-books, and saved their pocket 
money for oranges for the sick boy. Dick 
uttered no word of sympathy, but went about 
with angry and revengeful thoughts. 


THE CONQUEST OF APOLLYON 225 


The Doctor watched his little son anxiously, 
and through many and many a lonely hour his 
heart ached sorely for him. There was an odd 
reserve about the lad which made the father 
pause with reverence before the unopened portals 
of the young soul which was facing its first 
encounter with the old, bitter problem of the 
two natures which are the heritage of every son 
of man. Would evil conquer? Would good? 
Alone the boy must fight the battle if he would 
come out of it with any strength worth the 
having. 

The weeks passed. Frost came. Snow came. 
Thanksgiving came and went ; so did Christmas 
and New Year’s Day. The air was filled with 
the sweet clamor of sleigh-bells ; the white streets 
were gay with the sleds of the children ; the 
black ice of the beautiful ponds was smooth for 
the feet of the skaters. 

The children had a new book. It was a book 
of Arctic adventures, and was one of the gifts 
of Christmas-tide. They could hardly eat, they 
were so anxious to read and reread its fascinat- 
ing pages. As far as possible they altered their 
lives, speech, and thoughts to suit polar condi- 
tions, nor were they long in devising a new 


Q 


226 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


game to which the bitter cold and deep snows 
of a memorable January lent their aid. 

The vegetable garden was the Arctic Circle, 
and by dint of much labor, and with the assist- 
ance of nightly frosts, the long garden-path was 
flooded and frozen into an Arctic Sea. The 
asparagus bed made a very good Greenland, 
and a gilt-paper star tacked to a lath made an 
admirable North Pole. Snow was rolled into 
balls, and built into a domed dwelling, which 
could be entered through a snow tunnel, if one 
were gifted, as indeed all the children were, in 
the gentle art of crawling on the stomach. Two 
or three old buffalo-robes were borrowed from 
the stable, and Harry, always ready to help on 
a good cause, was trained to drag the sled over 
hummocks which had once been onion patches 
or squash hills. Caches were placed with thrifty 
frequency, and into these all the food that could 
be secreted from breakfast was hidden. A cach6 
had to be opened now and then, when hunger 
pressed, and the flavor of frozen sausages and 
apples was loudly praised. It was to be a most 
realistic play, and the children could hardly wait 
for Saturday to come. 

Dick was coming home from school on Friday 


THE CONQUEST OF APOLLYON 227 


noon. He had his sled with him, — a strong, 
fine sled, with his name painted upon its red 
surface. He was rosy with exercise; his lithe 
little body quivered with the life within that 
responded to the brave call of the cold, sharp 
air. He had just reached his own gate when he 
looked up and saw Anthony. 

The boy was walking slowly. He was wrapped 
up almost to his eyes, which looked out of gaunt 
hollows above his thin cheeks. Pain, Weakness, 
Poverty, — all these three great Angels spoke for 
him who spoke no word for himself. 

Dick looked at Anthony, and suddenly, as if 
they had never been, all the hatred and bitter- 
ness he had cherished were slain. He was 
ashamed of his cowardice in wishing worse to 
one already so hardly off. He was alive — alive 
forever — to the call of that universal brother- 
hood 'which he had scorned. It was a crucial 
moment, but all he said was : — 

Hey-oh, Anthony ! ” 

“ Hey-oh ! ” 

« If you’re going home, it’s a little down hill 
most of the way, and you may as well try my 
sled. She’s a ripper.” 

«I guess I ain’t strong enough to pull her back.” 


228 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


« Who said anything about pulling back ? 
Pm going to catch on behind.” 

Arrived at Anthony’s door, Dick said : — 

« We’re going to have a new game in our 
garden to-morrow, — Arctic explorers. We’ve got 
a snow house built and everything you can think 
of. Wouldn’t you like to be the Esquimau 
chief ? He’s to wear a buffalo-robe, and Harry’s 
to pull him about on the sled. The girls are to 
be in the game, too. Daffy’s going to be a kind 
of pappoose.” 

It was now Anthony’s turn to think of things. 
Boys do not explain their thoughts, so all 
Anthony said was: — 

“ Yep ! I’ll come.” 

At supper-time the children were full of excite- 
ment. Tutu was forced to keep a vigorous look- 
out lest all the tea-biscuit be added to the 
treasures of the cachSs, She had already con- 
fiscated two from Rachel’s apron pocket. They 
were talking of a feat just accomplished by each 
in turn, — a most gratifying feat. One had 
crawled in through the tunnel so far that one’s 
head and trunk were well inside the snow house. 
A safety match had then been lighted, and one 
had seen the glittering ice of the domed roof. 


THE CONQUEST OF APOLLYON 229 

One would have liked more than that brief 
glacial moment, but one’s heels were pulled from 
behind, and one was loudly admonished not to 
be a pig and take more than a fair turn. Even 
Daffy had had her share of the performance. 

‘‘ Who are in the game ? ” asked the Doctor. 

“Jim and Paul and Sophy Jane and Molly 
are to be explorers,” explained Rachel. “ Daffy 
and Betty and I are to be squaws and pap- 
pooses. Harry is going to be a whole dog-train, 
all by himself. We were going to have the two 
cats for reindeers, and Paul made them a nice 
little corral^ but they scratched so, we’ve had to 
leave them out. Dick is to be the Esquimau 
chief.” 

“ No,” corrected Dick, “ Anthony is.” 

“ Anthony ! ” exclaimed the Doctor, in a voice 
of surprise and content. “ Anthony ! ” 

“Yes, sir,” said Dick. 


CHAPTER XIII 


tClje HeD 3is^trakl)an0 

Grandpa came into town quite early that 
day. He drove old Robin, and sat in a little, 
light-running wagon. The Tribune^ neatly folded, 
was sticking out of his pocket, as he stopped at 
Oak House door to see if all went well with his 
daughter and the little ones. He had looked at 
the head-lines of the paper, directly the newsdealer 
handed it to him, and had learned from them 
that the end of the world had not yet arrived. 
Like other men of his day he was never quite 
sure of it until the Tribune made its daily an- 
nouncement — in effect — that the trusty little 
planet was still turning and whirling on its 
ordered pathway. 

Grandpa brought an invitation for all the 

family to spend the day following at Lin wood, 

Tutu, Mary Baily, and all. It was not his idea 
that the good times were all for himself and his 
friends only. The faithful old servants enjoyed 

230 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


231 


a day in the country now and then, as well as 
anybody, and they were asked sometimes when 
the family was asked. They sat on the porch 
that overlooked the grassy barnyard, and they 
walked in the orchard and in the woods. 
When the day was fine, in Summer, they had 
dinner on the porch. It was a treat to Bridget 
to have them come. 

The children jumped for joy. They went to 
Linwood every week of their lives, and they 
knew every blade of grass in all its broad acres ; 
but each visit was as great an event as if it had 
been a first voyage into foreign countries. Per- 
haps it was an even greater delight than that 
would have been. 

Grandpa had further news. Rachel was to go 
home with him and spend the night. This, like- 
wise, happened often. Daffy was too little to 
leave dear Mother, and Dick was a boy, and boys 
are sometimes an inconvenience, so it was always 
Rachel who stayed all night. She slept on a 
couch in Grandma’s room, and in the morning 
played ’possum when Grandpa called her to 
breakfast. 

Then Grandpa would say : — 

I must see if this little ’possum loves water.” 


232 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 

And then a little gentle sprinkling of water-drops 
would fall on RachePs head. Then there was 
great fun. 

So Rachel jumped harder than ever when she 
heard that she was to spend the night. She 
could hardly be made to hold still while a clean 
dress was put on and her hair was brushed. It 
was very short hair, as short, in fact, as hair 
could possibly be ; but it was always out of 
order, and Tutu seemed to live with a brush in 
her hand. The back of the brush felt quite hard 
when she used it for thumping. To-day Rachel 
hardly noticed the thumps. 

Grandma kept a little nightgown and the 
necessary brushes at Linwood in readiness for 
such occasions, so there was no need for delay. 
Everybody was kissed good-by, and Rachel 
climbed up on the seat beside Grandpa with a 
mind full of joyous anticipations. 

It was a pleasant August day — yes ; it was 
certainly in August, for Grandpa told Dick that 
the Strawberry-apples were ripe, and they ripen 
late in August. Dick at once decided that he 
could not wait until the next day before he had 
a taste of the Strawberry -apples, and so Grandpa 
told him to jump in. He could get a ride back 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


233 


to town in the afternoon. Daffy looked quite 
forlorn until her mother promised to take her up 
to play with Betty : then she cheered up. 

Robin jogged slowly along, and one by one 
the familiar homes and gardens fell behind them, 
as they neared the open country. Dick held the 
reins and imagined that he was driving, but 
Robin would have jogged slowly along just the 
same if there had been no reins. 

The children were very quiet. Grandpa seemed 
to have forgotten all about them, and was hum- 
ming softly to himself. When he hummed that 
tune, and looked off over the fields he loved, 
with his large, gentle eyes, the children were 
hushed as in the presence of some great and won- 
derful mystery. Their first knowledge of the 
mighty powers. Love and Death, came to them 
with the refrain of the old-fashioned song : — 

Where are the days when our hearts knew no care 

Long, long ago — long, long ago? 

Vanished, alas ! — and the Past echoes “ where ? 

Long, long ago, long ago.” 

Mother had told them that then the faithful 
old lover was thinking of the bride of his youth, 
their beautiful girl-grandmother of whom he 
sometimes spoke to them in a voice so full of 


234 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


love and longing that their hearts were warm 
with a sympathy they could but dimly under- 
stand. Long years before she had gone into a 
World better fitted than this for one so gentle, 
so lovely, and so pure, and now it is long years, 
again, since he went to find her there. 

They looked at the old man, and they made 
up their minds never again to be unworthy of 
the trust he had in them. Other people scolded 
them, and even punished them, but Grandpa 
never even suspected that her grandchildren 
could do anything amiss ! 

Arrived at Linwood, and the greetings from 
old Major, and from Bridget over, they heard 
more news. One of the Grand-aunts had driven 
out and taken Grandma to spend the day with 
still another Grand-aunt, — the one who lived 
at Locust Lane. They would be back to early 
tea, and Bridget was to have supper ready for 
all, an extra good supper — fried chicken, and 
waffles, and quince preserves. Rachel certainly 
was in luck ! 

Bridget liked Rachel well enough, but she 
liked Dick better. He was not so messy, and 
had not such a passion for bringing into the 
house the things Bridget called “ thrash.” She 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


235 


saw that Dick looked discomfited that the 
waffles were not to appear until supper-time, so 
she promised him that apple-dumplings with 
plenty of cream should be ready for dinner as 
well as the delicate custard and sponge cake that 
Grandma had ordered. 

Grandpa sat down in his big chair by the 
window, and unfolded his Trihune. Some little 
red volumes of the works of Swedenborg lay on 
the window ledge. Before he put on his specta- 
cles he said to the children : — 

“The dew is off the grass now, so you may 
run in the Orchard and play. You may have 
any apples you find lying on the grass, but you 
must not pick any of the Red Astrakhans. 
Grandma wants those.” 

There never was another Orchard like that 
one. There never will be another. All the year 
around it was a Paradise. It sloped away to a 
deep dim woodland. It was hedged about with 
a quickset hedge where birds nested, and where 
rabbits and mice and ground-squirrels were safely 
hidden. The earliest Spring found its peach trees 
ready with their rose-pink gowns, and its cherry 
and pear trees with their filmy veils of silver, 
waiting for her call. Nowhere, in all the world. 


236 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


was May so fairly greeted as there where mill- 
ions of apple blossoms garlanded her pathway 
and poured their incense at her feet. Violets 
and buttercups and dandelions grew in the long 
blue-grass, and three-cornered trilliums, dancing 
Dutchman’s breeches, and clouds of pale blue 
phlox blooms lurked along the woodward hedges. 
No monarch upon earth had such an orchestra 
as that protected by the gentle owner of the 
trees on which the earliest thrushes greeted 
the gray dawn, and which lasted until the last 
robin-call floated upward toward the evening 
star. In full-leafed Summer-time, in deep-fruited 
Autumn, or in the white stillness of the Winter’s 
snows — no ; there was never an Orchard like 
that one. 

Under the Strawberry-apple tree there were 
already many fallen apples. They were not 
very large, or very sweet, or very juicy, but 
they were of a tempting, dark purple-crimson 
color, and were altogether worthy of Bridget’s 
opinion that they were « uncommon tasty grand 
little apples for the childer,” and the childer 
in question ate so many that one would have 
thought there would be no room for the prom- 
ised dumplings. There was, however, and there 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


237 


was room for a wandering desire that led them 
from the Strawberry-apple way of safety to the 
Red Astrakhan path of danger. 

The Red Astrakhans hung on a young tree in 
its first year of bearing. The fruit was not 
abundant, but it was large and beautiful, red, 
with touches of yellow, and looked to be as 
juicy as the Strawberry-apples were dry. 

Grandpa had said that they might have any 
fruit found lying on the grass. There was none 
on the grass. The most faithful searching could 
not find so much of an ant-nibbled rind as might 
give one an idea of how a Red Astrakhan tasted. 

It was an easy tree to climb, a very easy 
tree, even for a girl far less expert in the art of 
climbing than was Rachel. Grandpa had par- 
ticularly told them, however, not to pick any 
apples, so there would be no use in climbing. 

The longer they stayed under the tree, the 
harder it seemed that they should not taste of 
those alluring apples which seemed to wink at 
them tauntingly from among the leaves. 

Dick proposed fiight. 

“Let’s go down and play in the rick-yard,” 
he said. 

“No,” replied Rachel, “let’s sit right down 


238 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


here. Very probably some of the apples’ll drop 
off ’most any minute. Let’s wait.” 

So they sat down and waited — maybe five 
minutes. No apples fell. 

Some freshly cut bean-poles lay in a neat 
pile against the garden fence. 

“ If I were to take a bean-pole and bang at 
that lowest apple, I bet it ’d fall off,” suggested 
Rachel. 

‘‘Mother told you not to say ‘I bet,”’ cor- 
rected Dick. 

“Well, I do bet — a thousand dollars,” in- 
sisted Rachel. “ I’ll just show you.” 

“You haven’t got a thousand dollars,” de- 
murred Dick. “ And Grandpa said we shouldn’t 
pick the apples.” 

“ I never said a word about picking,” retorted 
Rachel. “ I said ‘ bang.’ ” 

“ It’s all the same,” said Dick, gloomily. 

“ Well, I’m going to do it, anyhow, Mr. ’Fraid 
Cat,” said Rachel, stoutly. “I’m just as par- 
ticular about obeying as you are, ’cause if you 
don’t obey, you’ll go to the Bad Place when you 
die. Grandpa never opened his mouth about 
banging, and I don’t call it wicked if you 

She scrambled up and possessed herself of a 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


239 


stout hickory pole. She had to go within range 
of the bay-window to get it, but she strolled by 
with great nonchalance^ and returned trailing the 
pole carelessly after her. Grandpa’s head was 
quite hidden by the Tribune. It was just as 
well, perhaps, that Grandma was dining out. 

She got back in safety to the tree, and took 
up a position on the side farthest from the 
house. She raised the pole and aimed at the 
tree. 

A good many leaves were cut and fell ground- 
ward before an apple came off, but Rachel could 
aim very well for a girl, and finally an apple 
dropped. 

Eve now took a large bite. It was, indeed, a 
fine, juicy apple. She held it Adam-ward. 

“ Have a bite, Dick. Half’s yours.” 

Grandpa — ” 

“ Oh, bother ! ” cried Eve, whose thin cheek 
was now rounded out by the second bite, and 
whose utterance was rather thick. “ Didn’t it 
fall down, and didn’t I pick it up off the grass ? 
You saw it yourself. And all Grandpa said was 
that we could have what we picked up off the 
grass.” 

Even without a serpent, and in the most Para- 


240 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


disiacal of Orchards two children and an apple 
can rehearse the oldest of the Hebrew dramas. 

Rachel banged again and again. She forgot 
everything but the joy of the chase, and the lust 
of conquest. Five — six — nine splendid Red 
Astrakhans lay under the tree when Grandpa 
came out to call the children to dinner. 

He had no suspicions. They offered no expla- 
nations, and he did not see the hickory pole. 

« All those apples ? ” he marvelled. « I did 
not think any had fallen. Have you eaten all 
you wished to ? Then put the rest in your 
apron, Rachel, and carry them into the house for 
Grandma.” 

Bridget gave one quick glance at the hot little 
face as they all came into the cool dining room. 

“ That Rachel,” she muttered, as she went out 
to fetch the dumplings. One of them had not 
turned out very well. Rachel got that one. 

After dinner the children went out into the 
barnyard. Robin was there, walking about, but 
the other horses were away at work. Yarrow 
grew there in white drifts under the locust trees. 
Rachel was very fond of the bitter scent of 
bruised yarrow leaves, and she loved the heads 
of little starry blossoms, but to-day she did not 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


241 


feel like making a yarrow-ball. Usually there 
were only too many things to do in the barn- 
yard, but on this day there seemed to be nothing 
at all. 

The fowls walked about pecking and cluck- 
ing. It would be fun to hunt for their eggs, for 
although a comfortable hen-house with rows of 
boxes was provided for the hens, only the oldest 
and most unimaginative ones were content with 
them, and it was as good as a puzzle to find out 
where the other hens had laid their eggs. More 
than once Dick had found great stores of these 
under the barns and stables. They were usually 
addled, and of no use, but to find them was an 
event. 

Grandpa had not many rules, — very few ; but 
one of them was against hunting eggs before 
four o’clock. No one knew why, but such was 
his pleasure. 

“ I can’t stay until four o’clock,” said Dick. 
«A11 the town-going w^agons will have gone in 
by that time, and I should have to walk. I wish 
we could hunt the eggs now.” 

Rachel went back to the dining room to look 
at the clock. It seemed to be slow on purpose. 
Rachel had often noticed that trick it had. Or 


242 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


else it went too fast. Four? No; it was only 
half-past one. Tick ! tock ! At that rate one 
would be an old woman before four o’clock 
should have come. 

Dick kicked his heels disconsolately against 
the barn steps when Rachel came out with the 
bad news. 

“ I wish I hadn’t come until to-morrow,” he 
said. 

Rachel longed to comfort him. 

Perhaps it would save Grandpa time if we 
hunted a few,” she suggested ; «« the hardest ones, 
you know. We could put the eggs we found 
into the hen-house nests, and he could find them 
when he comes with the basket. Grandpa’s 
getting old.” 

u We’ve disobeyed once already,” hinted Dick, 
darkly. 

“We didn’t really pick,” insisted Rachel. 
“ We only banged.” And then she added: “ That 
is, I banged. You only ate.” 

“ It was just as bad,” said Dick. Dick was 
always fair. 

“ I’m glad I did it, anyhow,” said the light- 
hearted Rachel. “ The apples look lovely in the 
china bowl by the clock, and it’ll be a surprise 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


243 


for Grandma. And I think it’ll be real kind of 
us to sort of surprise Grandpa about the eggs. 
Come on, Dick.” 

So Dick came on. The hens had been very 
industrious and there were a great many eggs ; 
so many that when they were arranged in the 
hen-house nests, it looked like sitting-time. Even 
Grandpa would hardly be deceived by such a 
remarkable state of affairs. The thought of re- 
storing the eggs to their proper places never 
occurred to the children who stood aghast at 
the prospect of detection. 

Rachel’s brain worked with fatal quickness. 

« Do you remember the fun we had with the 
spoiled eggs once ? We took them out into the 
wood lot behind the barn and played war. We 
made out the barn was a fort, and the tub we 
sat in was a battle ship, and we bombarded the 
fort. It was lots of fun. Let’s do it again. No- 
body ever goes into the wood lot, and Grandpa’s 
got plenty of eggs, anyhow.” 

She had already filled her apron with eggs and 
had climbed over the fence in safety before 
Dick’s slower thoughts had decided. 

“ I hate to do two mean things. One is bad 
enough.” 


244 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


“ Oh, well, if you want to get found out, and 
never be allowed to come out here again to the 
longest day you live, go ahead,” cried the spirited 
Rachel. Ain’t we all the grandchildren he’s 
got in the world, and don’t you suppose he likes 
to have us enjoy ourselves when we come visit- 
ing ? What’s a few eggs, and half of ’em addled, 
most likely ? ” 

“ Are they ? ” Dick really wanted to know. 

The warm weather addles ’em,” said Rachel. 
“The only way to tell that is to break ’em.” 

The bombardment of Fort Barn was only con- 
cluded with the bursting of the last piece of the 
ammunition of the attacking party. It was 
really delightful to hear the egg-shell crack at 
the moment of impact, and to see the yellow 
stream that followed crawl slowly down the 
weather-boarding; but it was a brief delight, 
and when it was over, Dick spied a wagon mov- 
ing townward, and ran out to ask for a ride. 
So Rachel was left alone. 

It was very dull. Bridget had gone to her 
room, and Grandpa was reading in Divine Provi- 
dence, Old Major was off on some business of 
his own, and the barn cats were of all cats the 
most unsocial. One hardly ever came within 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


245 


even spitting distance of a person. Rachel did 
not care to make either larkspur wreaths or 
phlox-chains, though there were plenty of avail- 
able blossoms in the part of the garden called 
hers. Dick had arranged to collect all the birds’ 
nests, now long since emptied of birdlings, on the 
morrow, so it would not be fair to take any to- 
day, and somehow she didn’t much care to bring 
in any moss, her usual way of earning Bridget’s 
enmity. She thought about the eggs, and was 
appalled at the magnitude of her crime. How 
should she bear it when four o’clock struck, and 
Grandpa should come out with the egg-basket ? 
She thought of the Red Astrakhans, and the all- 
too-certain questions Grandma would propound 
when she saw the china basket. It would be 
far easier, however, to see the cold gray light creep 
into Grandma’s eyes, than to know that Grandpa 
would never suspect her of wrong-doing in the 
matter of the eggs. How should she bear it ? 

Poor little Eve ! After the joys of the Garden, 
the Flaming Sword of the Gateway ! 

It was but ten minutes past three ! Out of 
her trouble there was left only the path of the 
penitent prodigal. Her Father’s house! Her 
Mother’s arms ! She must go. 


246 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


“ Grandpa, I want to go home.” 

He laid Divine Providence face downward on 
his knee. 

“ What is the matter, Rachel ? ” 

« I want to see Father and Mother.” 

« You will see them to-morrow.” 

“ I want to see them right now. I want you 
to get Robin and take me home.” 

“ I have no idea of doing so, however,” he 
said, taking up his book. “ Run out and play, 
like a good little girl, until I call you to come 
and help me hunt the eggs.” 

Rachel’s fear was great, her remorse was 
greater, but her temper was greatest of all. 
She stamped her foot. Her eyes flashed. For 
the only time in her life she was impertinent to 
the kind old friend whose beautiful and serene 
spirit spread its own divine calm about him. 

“ I tell you I will go home ! So now ! ” 

This time Divine Providence was closed firmly 
and finally. The large dark eyes looked sorrow- 
fully down at the angry child. The Swedish 
seer had no practical advice for a case like this 
for which Experience was the only teacher. It 
was hard to turn the tender little one to so grim 
a schoolmaster, but it had to be done. 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


247 


“ If you wish to go home, Rachel, you can go.” 
“ How can I, if you won’t take me ? ” 

“ You have two feet, my dear.” 

“ So I have. Good-by ! ” 

There was no loving kiss, only the angry 
seizure of the straw hat and the blue parasol, 
and the swift flight of the little figure down the 
long path that led to the gate and the public 
road, — a wild little Ishmaelite, whose sins goaded 
her into an angry arraignment of the whole world. 

Her breath gave out before she had run the 
length of the first field, and before she had 
reached the shelter of the twin oak trees that 
stood in the middle of the road a little rain 
began to fall. Now that Rachel refiected, she 
remembered that the sun had been hidden for 
several hours, and that the skies had been quite 
darkened before the assault on Fort Barn had 
been concluded. Perhaps, however, it was only 
a passing shower, and so she would stand in 
between the trees and wait. 

The drops fell faster and faster on the leafy 
roof above her. The little elves of the rain were 
whispering together with a cool, delicious mur- 
mur, as they hastened about on their task of 
cleansing and refreshing the tired old earth. 


248 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


What a busy, cheerful obedience was theirs, as 
they beat down the soft dust of the road ! How 
clean and pure was the wind that touched the 
cheeks of the little girl! A thousand fancies, 
born of the raindrops and of the fragrant Sum- 
mer day, would have soothed and charmed her, 
but for the weight that lay on her heart. She 
must hasten on. 

The roadway was muddy now, very muddy, 
and her shoes were heavy as she dragged them 
from the soft earth. Tutu hated muddy shoes, 
and she said children often got ill from having 
wet feet, and sometimes they even died. Oh, 
how Rachel hoped she would not die of wet feet 
before she got home ! As bad as she was, it 
would be awful ! If she could only get her 
shoes dried ! 

There was a little house at the very edge of 
the Village which had often excited the curiosity 
of the children, but about which they had never 
asked any questions. Spruce trees grew in a 
dense thicket before the door, between which and 
the gate was the cabbage garden and the potato 
patch. In the Village itself the civic conscience 
demanded a clear bit of lawn in everybody’s 
yard ; even the poorest people had a few rods of 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


249 


grass, but here was no grass, only vegetables. 
It did not promise much, but a thin line of 
smoke ascended from behind the spruce trees, 
so there must be a fire there by which wet feet 
could be dried. Rachel went in. 

Everybody in the Village knew, or they ought 
to know, that besides their own Relations and 
Particular Friends, and the World in General, 
there lived within sound of the Court House 
clock, criminals of matchless powers for evil 
and of unexampled malignity. They pretended 
to be this or that, and all the while the children 
knew, and the Grown-ups might have known, 
that they were genii, goblins, and witches, who 
lived only to harm in secret and who worked 
so cunningly that they were never found out. 
Sophy Jane was witch-finder-in-general, a trait 
she had inherited from her old Salem ancestry. 
She knew to a certainty who had the evil eye, 
and dark and terrible were the tales she told of 
mysterious disappearances, midnight rides on 
broomsticks, black cats, and “ spells.” The souls 
of her listeners were harrowed by her recitals, 
which she sometimes rendered more potent by 
surreptitious peeps at the pictures in the for- 
bidden Ingoldsby Legends^ which they read 


250 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


whenever the books could be smuggled from the 
Doctor’s shelves. She had witch-names for all 
the people whose appearance did not please her, 
and of them all no name was so awesome as 
that of Mrs. Earbobs. 

Rachel knocked at the door of the little house 
behind the fir trees. It was opened by no less 
a person than Mrs. Earbobs, while a black cat 
appeared from under the step, and was ready to 
rub itself against Rachel’s legs. 

It was a critical moment. Rachel was a 
curious compound of cowardice, and what Na- 
poleon called “ two-o’clock-in-the-morning cour- 
age.” It was the turn of the courage now, so 
she walked in pleasantly, and took her seat 
by the kitchen stove, which stood in the main 
room of the cottage. 

« I’m the Doctor’s little girl,” she said, lifting 
the cat to her knees, and perching her shoes on 
the hearth. «I’ve been spending the day at 
Grandpa’s at Linwood ; I was going to stay all 
night — but — well — I decided to go home. 
So I had to walk and my shoes are very wet. I 
thought maybe you’d let me dry them so I won’t 
die.” 

Mrs. Earbobs looked at her. Her eyes were 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


251 


very near-sighted, so she frowned a good deal, 
and the large golden hoops that hung from her 
ears, and that had impressed Sophy Jane, shook 
as she bent down to catch Rachel’s words. 

“You was to stay all night,” she repeated^ 
crossly, “ but you decided to go home, an’ you 
was allowed to walk ! What you been up to ? ” 

“Up to ? ” Rachel trembled. 

“ Yes ! Up to ! Can’t you hear ? It don’t 
sound straight.” Mrs. Earbobs went on severely. 
“ The folks up to Linwood ain’t the kind to 
let you go traipsin’ about the world, over muddy 
roads in the rain, with nothin’ to pertect you 
but that ’ere little blue umbrelly, ’less sumpin’ 
was up. I’ve seen children before now ! I 
know ’em ! ” 

“I — I wanted to go home,” said Rachel. 

Mrs. Earbobs viewed the little shoes with dis- 
favor. 

“There’s worse things ’n muddy shoes,” she 
said “ an’ one of ’em’s a muddy heart. What 
you been up to ? ” 

Rachel arose with much dignity. 

“ I’m afraid I must go,” she said. “ Thank you 
for letting me come in. I hope I didn’t spoil the 
nice clean floor.” 


252 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


“ What you been up to ? reiterated the 
woman, sharply. « Tell, I say ! Have you got 
it in your pocket ? ” 

Rachel was outside the door. She felt the 
strength of her youth in her feet. 

« Sophy Jane said you were a witch,” she 
announced, and then she flew. 

« I’ll Sophy Jane her and you, too ! ” screamed 
Mrs. Earbobs, angrily. “ What was you up to ? 
Have you got it in your pocket ? Half’s 
mine ! ” 

Rachel heard no more ; she was around the 
curve in the road before the shrill voice died 
away, and not until then did she discover that 
her precious blue parasol was left behind in the 
witch’s cave. Well, the cat might have it for 
all she cared. She couldn’t get much wetter if 
she tried. So she plodded on. 

The very last house in the Village was a 
carpenter-shop. The Carpenter was a little 
Englishman, and he and his old Swedish wife 
lived near the shop. He was the friend of all 
little children, though he had none of his own, 
and it was with sincere gladness that Rachel 
saw him leaning beside the door of his shop, 
smoking his short black pipe. 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


253 


« Why, Rachel,’’ cried the Carpenter. « How’s 
this ? ” 

Rachel was tired of evasions. The Carpenter’s 
eyes were kind, and even his gray whiskers 
bristled with benevolence. She took the hand 
he reached down to her, and sprang up lightly 
into the clean little shop. 

« I went out to Grandpa’s to spend the night,” 
she confessed. « I’ve done four bad things, and 
I’m going home to ask Mother to forgive me. 
She always does.” 

“ Well, now, I dare say you wasn’t so dread- 
ful bad,” said the Carpenter, kindly. “ But it’s 
right for folks to ask for pardon. Real ladies 
always do, and your mother couldn’t have a 
little girl that wasn’t a real lady.” 

Rachel was humbled. 

“I’m afraid she has, though,” she said con- 
tritely. “I’m worse than you could possibly 
believe. I’ve told a lie, or at least I’ve done 
one ; and I’ve stolen, or at least it was just the 
same, for the eggs weren’t mine. And bad as it 
was to smash them, and to bang the Red Astra- 
khans, it was really worse to be hateful to dear 
Grandpa and to call Mrs. Earbobs a witch. 
Mother will be so ashamed of me, and I’m 


254 THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY 


ashameder than I can think myself. I just ha^ 
to hurry home to tell her, and oh, — do you think 
she’ll punish me ? I hope she will, really hard. 
If I’d told Grandpa, he’d never have said a word, 
but just looked at me, and I’d have known he 
was thinking how sorry my very own Grand- 
mother would be in Heaven, and that I could not 
have borne. I do try to be good, but I seem to 
get badder and badder every day. I need not 
have called her a witch, though.” 

« Who — a witch ? ” 

“Mrs. Earbobs. The — lady — who lives up 
in the little house yonder. Sophy Jane always 
said she was a witch ; but it was worse than 
horrid in me to call her so.” 

“ Oh, I see ! No ; the poor body isn’t a witch ; 
but she’s not quite right in her mind. She 
would not remember what you said two min- 
utes after you were gone, so you did not do her 
any real harm.” 

Rachel was glad to hear that, but she was 
more than glad when the good old Carpenter 
took her by the hand, and said kindly : — 

“We’ll go into the house now, and the old 
Wife will dry you nicely, and give us both some 
supper. I am going into the Village for some 


THE RED ASTRAKHANS 


255 


screws after a bit, so I’ll take you home safe 
under my umbrella, and then you can tell your 
trouble to your mother. You ain’t a bad little 
girl at heart, Rachel, for all you do get into such 
a sight of scrapes, and I don’t doubt you’ll grow 
up to be a fine woman, some day, like your 
mother.” 



> 



1 





THE HEART OF ROME 

A Tale of the Lost Water 
By F* MARION CRAWFORD 

Author of " Saracinesca,” " In the Palace of the King,” etc. 

i2mo Cloth $1.50 

In this new novel the story is the thing. The legend of 
a buried treasure under the walls of the palace of the Conti 
is known to but few, yet arouses a series of conflicting inter- 
ests which provide the framework for many exciting inci- 
dents, through which runs just such a charming love story 
as Mr. Crawford, better than any other, knows how to tell. 


A FOREST HEARTH 

A RomaAce of Indiana in the Thirties 
By CHARLES MAJOR 

Author of “ Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall,” “When Knight- 
hood was in Flower,” etc. 

With illustrations by CLYDE O. DeLand 

i2ino Cloth $1.50 

A sunny human love story faithfully picturing the adven- 
turous, indomitable pioneer elements which came from all 
ranks and parts to unite in the present State of Indiana. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

66 FIFTH AVENUE, HEW YORK 


HETTY WESLEY 

By A. T. QUILLER-COUCH 

Author of “ Dead Man’s Rock," “ The Splendid Spur,” etc. 

i2mo Cloth $1.50 

A remarkable human document, which can be read either 
as brilliant fiction, almost startling in its realism, or as 
dramatic biography told with the dash and swing of the 
author’s best manner. 

As the actual life of a real woman . . . this story of a 
great woman, the sister and equal of great men, cuts deep 
into life. What the author has done has been to realize 
it, absorb it, live each moment of it in his inner self, and 
then write it down, with the intense conviction that is 
another name for inspiration, and leaving something of 
excitement and elevation behind it .” — The London Times, 


MCTODD 

By C J. CUTCXIFFE HYNE 

Author of " Thompson’s Progress," etc., etc. 

i2ino Cloth $1.50 

It is even better than the author’s other books, since 
there is a certain mellowness about McTodd which makes 
the reader like him better than his chief. Captain Kettle, with 
whom every novel reader is familiar. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

6# FIFTH AVEHTO, NEW YORK 


THE BEST NEW NOVELS 


THE METTLE OF THE PASTURE. By James Lane Allen. 
i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

“In theme, in style, in portrayal of character, ‘The Mettle of the Pasture’ 
shows the qualities which make for present delight and future cherished remem- 
brance; . . . the book is altogether a great achievement, worthy its creator’s 
noble gifts.” — The Louisville Evening Post. 

ON THE WE-A TRAIL. By Caroline Brown. i2mo, cloth, 

$1.50- 

A strong story drawn from the intertwisted threads of love and war in the 
time when control of “ the great wilderness” (now Indiana) was hanging on the 
result of the struggle for the forts on the Wabash — in which the famous war trail 
played an important part. 

A GENTLEMAN OF THE SOUTH. By William Garrott 
Brown. i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

“Mr. Brown knows the field thoroughly; his knowledge is accurate and 
sympathetic ; and in this story he has dramatized the spirit of the Old South.” 
— The Outlook. 

THE BLACK CHANTER. By Nimmo Christie. i2mo, cloth, 
$1.50. 

“The Black Chanter” comprises tales of the Highland Scotch, of which 
the first lends its name to the book. It is a story that sends a thrill through 
the reader, who can almost hear the deadly music in which Lachlan the piper 
worked his revenge, playing as the clan’s last charge, not the arm-strengthen- 
ing notes of “ The Blades of Glenkilvie," but the wailing “ Death Tune.” 

JAMES BLOUNT OF BRECICENHOW. By Beulah Marie 
Dix. i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

“ A novel that in truth to history, in virile simplicity of style, and in abiding 
human interest may fairly challenge comparison with the very best in its chosen 
field.” — Boston Transcript, 

JOHN MAXWELL’S MARRIAGE. By Stephen Gwynn. 
i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

A strong, original story of the end of the eighteenth century in Ireland, when 
it was still possible to take a wife by force, or to be hunted for one’s life because 
of being an American “ rebel.” 

THE CALL OF THE WILD. By Jack London. i2mo, cloth, 
$1.50. 

“ A wonderfully perfect bit of work.” — The Sun. 

THE BEATEN PATH. By Richard L. Makin. i2mo, cloth, 
$1.50. 

“ The Beaten Path ” expresses the burning industrial problem, as it touches 
the lives of such men and women as we all know. Yet it is far from being a 
commonplace story ; it is full of human, everyday types, vivified and shown to 
be full of meaning. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

66 FIFTH AVENUE, HEW YORK 


THE BEST NEW NOVELS 


HOLT OF HEATHFIELD. By Caroline A. Mason. i2mo, 
cloth, $1.50. 

The book contains some delightfully pungent illustrations of the range of 
claims made upon a young and popular minister by the widely varying elements 
in the average congregation. 

THE LITERARY SENSE. By E. Nesbit. i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

“Clever, witty, and wise, full of subtle humor, and graceful in style.” — 
Pittsburgh Gazette. 

ANNE CARMEL. By Gwendolen Overton. i2mo, cloth, 

$1.50- 

“A novel of uncommon beauty and depth; ... in every way an unusual 
book.” — Louisville Times. 

THE KEY OF PARADISE. By Sidney Pickering. i2mo, 
cloth, $1.50. 

A story of a little Italian princess who has been told that to find the key of 
Paradise “one has only to love with the great love and be loved in return.” 

CHILDREN OF THE TENEMENTS. By Jacob A. Riis. 
i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

They are true stories, and go straight to the heart, some funny, some pathetic. 
All of them have come directly under the author’s eyes and are direct, telling 

g ictures which make clear as no other medium could the conditions confronted 
1 “ The Battle with the Slum.” 

THE MAGIC FOREST. By Stewart Edward White. i2mo, 
cloth, $1.50. 

** It is marvellous how Mr. White has caught the outdoor atmosphere, . . . 
the result is a real triumph of art. No better book could be put in a young boy’s 
bands, and his elders can read it with equal pleasure.” — The New York Sun. 

THE SPIRIT OF THE SERVICE. By Edith Elmer Wood. 
i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

An uncommonly bright and breezy story of “ the New Navy.” 

AUNT TIMMY’S WILL. By Mabel Osgood Wright. i2ino, 
cloth, $1.50. 

A story which will delight all the young people who know how a thirteen-year- 
old girl feels, and that will interest helpfully very many older ones who may have 
forgotten. Best of all, it is a book to spread a gospel of sunshine. 

PEOPLE OF THE WHIRLPOOL. By the author of “ The 
Garden of a Commuter’s Wife.” i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 

“ The whole book is delicious, with its wise and kindly humor, its just per- 
spective of the true values of things, its clever pen pictures of people and 
customs, and its healthy optimism for the great world in general.” — Phila^ 
deiphia Telegraph. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

66 FIFTH, AVENUE, HEW YORK 







in. 




W- 




»»;« 


7* • 


’^t 


r.rrj 




ti 


4 .* 


r;:wvi 






Wf^- 


.»»!/ 


'f%<^ 


MM 


l’^'' 


*> 4 




<■ 't V' 






[S*£ 


if* 




rr-^ 




> . ^ 


v> 








»»v 






TX 


r^Jr:i> 


H'i 


X' 


ri'/l 


n « 


A. 


f- 




v> ?^.»0 


r» < 




V« 








a 


!h 


'• a-BW -.' ^'.1 
■' ;"■ ' ’ . •■•■--■ ; ■* 

i-'-fir^ ■'■•Wi 

Ia •' - . 

f*-v ’ y* 

^ * / » 7 ^ . 

LaJV^ '■j-i ' ■ ‘ 

r, ‘v: / » ; 




■* 




-- (, 






V > 




. 1 , V 


.•^ r* , - V 

0> • • - 








b> 




:.:; 3 ii 


A - 






\v 


‘l* 












r 




•'r 




- jl 


M ..-^ 


itv 


nliriH' 


.4 


t- 


tmr. 


>■* 


* •’■ 


•« * 






r.^ 


F-'f' 


4 » 








r WP Y« ■ 

tf. - ^ 






. 4 

!• » 






■f/ 


L** 


*j 






.r *-•' 


m 








* 






. *•• • 


I* 


• ^ 


,f j 




f 




<■ - <',v 


•J 

-f?/' ■ 

rN /‘ '» V^: 








>fii 








Hi 


» n 




' ' • » 

• ' r »| 


^•U' 




i:^‘ 


kii ii 






.’■^:V 1 




' i\- 




>- L' 






»<t > 


' ii^ES^-T' 






fcV* 






S' 

.Trr<L\ 1 i\ 










FEB 93 1304 




‘it.''*-. 


-fa. ;•. 

V^/’ ■’"‘‘.ite '■• ‘ 


0 ' 



> 


V ‘ 


.-r ^ 



I » 


■ *.< 


i:i^..' iSOrVv 




f .* 


I 


« '« 




v^- . 


y\r 't- 

' ?'*'^" . :>v. . . 

'i\^ ‘''^r /- 

... 

', ■ ,' V • • ■ , '- 

^ 1 ' .• V 





■i-v 


'fc 





'f j 


* 1 

*V’. 'A 





« « 


• 



>, 





> j I 


I . s 


'4 


■ * > 


,/TJ 


I f I . 

• 1 * • ' ■■ , ' 'd 0 

'A/ 





d~\J M VV T 


ri\ 


.Aft 


> 'n • -V ^' r • • * 

1 Vil' V' • '•♦v>v >Vs • ^ I 

^fe-rc-., ■■ fe‘.'4if^ :■■ 

fiWjVi.; >«•■■ 





« 

» 


V;/ 

«4 

■L'r ■' ' 

.« 

LV' »AS' 


%v. ' ^ ' ' 


? I \ ' ', • < 

/L "V .• ,••*.* » 4 



• 




>•, 


,< ',. 


.:• «:- ..ft 


i/ 



V. /. 


V 


» 
f . 


i 



t 

% 


, i 


►4 


V 





■f 


* 


V 


» 


■I.V 



« 


N t ' 

M 












